tUNIt.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


You  will  have  to  reckon  with  me  first,  you  robber!" — Page  68 


The 

Love  That  Prevailed 


By 
F.  FRANKFORT  MOORE 

Author  of  "The  Jessamy  Bride"   "I  Forbid  the  Bans?   "The  Fat*l 
Gift"  "The  Millionaire"  "Our  Fair  Daughter"  etc.,  etc. 


\1 


Illustrated  by  H.  B.  MATTHEWS 


NEW  YORK 
EMPIRE  BOOK  COMPANY 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
F.   Frankfort  Moore. 


All  rights  reserved. 


The  Love  that   Prevailed 


CHAPTER    I 

"  THE  old  church  ways  be  good  enough  for  me," 
said  Miller  Pendelly  as  he  placed  on  the  table  a 
capacious  jug  of  cider,  laying  a  friendly  left  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  Jake  Pullsford,  the  carrier,  as 
he  bent  across  the  side  of  the  settee  with  the  high 
back. 

"  I  ne'er  could  see  aught  that  was  helpful  to  the 
trade  of  a  smith  in  such  biasses  as  the  Quakers,  to 
name  only  one  of  the  new-fangled  sects,"  said  Hal 
Holmes,  the  blacksmith,  shaking  his  head  seriously. 
"  So  I  holds  with  Miller." 

"Ay,  that's  the  way  too  many  of  ye  esteems  a 
religion — i  Will  it  put  another  crown  in  my 
pocket?'  says  you.  If  't  puts  a  crown  in  your 
pocket,  'tis  a  good  enough  religion;  if  't  puts  half- 
a-crown  in  your  pocket,  'tis  less  good;  if  't  puts 
naught  in  your  pocket,  that  religion  is  good  for 
naught." 

The  speaker  was  a  middle-aged  man  with  a  pair 
of  large  eyes  which  seemed  to  vary  curiously  in 
colour,  sometimes  appearing  to  be  as  grey  as  steel, 
and  again  of  a  curious  green  that  did  not  suit 
everybody's  taste  in  eyes.  But  for  that  matter, 
Jake  Pullsford,  the  carrier,  found  it  impossible  to 
meet  everybody's  taste  in  several  other  ways.  He 
had  a  habit  of  craning  forward  his  head  close  to 
the  face  of  anyone  to  whom  he  was  speaking,  and 


6          THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

this  movement  liad  something  of  an  accusing  air, 
about  it — occasionally  a  menacing  air — which  was 
distinctly  distasteful  to  most  people,  particularly 
those  who  knew  that  they  had  good  reason  to  be 
accused  or  to  be  menaced. 

"  Jake  Pullsford  goes  about  the  world  calling  his 
best  friends  liars  without  the  intent  to  hurt  their 
feelings/'  was  the  criticism  passed  upon  him  by 
Miller  Pendelly.  Other  critics  were  not  so  sure  on 
the  subject  of  his  intent.  He  had  never  shown 
himself  to  be  very  careful  of  the  feelings  of  his 
friends. 

"  The  religion  that  puts  naught  in  thy  pocket  is 
good  for  naught — that's  what  you  be  thinking  of, 
Hal  Holmes,"  he  said,  thrusting  his  head  close  to 
the  face  of  the  smith.  But  the  smith  did  not  mind. 
The  man  that  spends  most  of  his  days  hammering 
out  and  bending  iron  to  his  will,  usually  thinks 
good-naturedly  of  one  who  uses  words  and  phrases 
as  arguments. 

"  I  don't  gainsay  thee,  Jake,"  he  replied.  "  If 
you  know  what's  in  my  thought  better  than  I  do 
myself,  you  be  welcome  to  the  knowledge." 

"  I  meant  not  thee  in  special,  friend,"  said  Jake. 
"  What  I  say  is  that  there  are  too  many  in  these 
days  that  think  of  religion  only  for  what  it  may 
bring  to  them  in  daily  life — folk  that  make  a  gain 
of  godliness." 

"  And  a  right  good  thing  to  make  a  gain  of,  says 
I,"  remarked  the  miller  with  a  confidential  wink 
into  the  empty  mug  which  he  held — it  had  been 
full  a  moment  before. 

"  Ay,  you  be  honest,  miller :  you  allow  that  I  am 
right  and  you  have  courage  enough  to  praise  what 
the  Book  condemns,"  said  Jake. 

"  Look  'ee  here,  friend,"  said  the  miller,  in  his 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED          7 

usual  loud  voice — the  years  that  he  had  spent  in 
his  mill  had  caused  him  to  acquire  a  voice  whose 
tone  could  successfully  compete  with  the  creaking 
and  clattering  of  the  machinery.  "  Look  'ee  here, 
friend  Jake,  'twould  be  easy  enough  for  you  or  me 
that  has  done  moderate  well  for  ourselves  in  life,  to 
turn  up  our  eyes  in  holy  horror  at  the  bare  thought 
of  others  being  godly  for  what  they  may  gain  in 
daily  life,  but  for  myself,  I  would  not  think  that 
I  was  broaching  a  false  doctrine  if  I  was  to  say  to 
my  son,  i  Young  man,  be  godly  and  thou'll  find  it 
to  bring  gain  to  thee.'  What,  Jake,  would  'ee  have 
a  man  make  gain  out  of  ungodliness?  " 

"Ay,  that's  a  poser  for  him,  miller:  I've  been 
thinking  for  that  powerful  proposal  ever  since  the 
converse  began,"  said  a  small  man  who  had  sat 
silently  smoking  in  a  high-backed  chair.  He  was 
one  who  had  the  aspect  of  unobtrusiveness,  and  a 
figure  that  somehow  suggested  to  strangers  an 
apologetic  intention  without  the  courage  ever  to 
put  it  in  force.  His  name  was  Richard  Pritchard, 
and  he  was  by  profession  a  water-finder — a  practi- 
tioner with  the  divining  rod,  but  one  whose  suc- 
cesses were  never  startling. 

When  he  had  spoken,  all  the  room,  to  the  number 
of  three,  turned  anxious  eyes  upon  him,  as  if  they 
were  surprised  at  his  having  gone  so  far  and  feared 
a  painful  sequel.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  he  had 
justified  their  worst  forebodings,  and  hastened  to 
relieve  their  minds. 

"  I'm  all  friendly,  friends,  and  Jake  in  especial," 
he  said.  "  Don't  forget  that  though  a  man  on  the 
spur  of  the  .moment,  and  in  the  fierce  stress  of 
argyment,  may  say  a  bitter  hard  word  or  two,  there 
may  still  be  naught  in  his  bosom's  heart  but  neigh- 
bourly friendship,  meaning  no  offence  to  you,  Jake, 


8 

that  be  a  travelled  man,  viewing  strange  cities 
quite  carelessly,  where  plain  and  simple  men  would 
gape  and  stare." 

Jake,  the  carrier,  gave  no  sign  of  having  heard 
the  other  speak. 

"  There's  a  many  o'  us  in  these  parts  as  strong  as 
in  other  parts,  that  be  ready  and  willing  to  take 
things  as  they  come,"  said  he ;  "  to  take  the  parson's 
preaching  as  they  take  the  doctor's  pills." 

"  Ay,  wi'  a  wry  face,"  acquiesced  the  blacksmith 
with  a  readiness  that  one  could  see  the  carrier 
thought  meant  no  good. 

He  leant  across  the  table  once  more  until  his 
face  was  close  to  the  smith's,  and  said : 

"  That's  where  you  be  wrong,  Hal  Holmes.  You 
know  as  well  as  the  most  knowledgable — 

"  Meaning  yourself,  Jake?  "  said  the  smith  drily. 

"  You  know  well  that  though  you  may  make  a 
wry  face  when  gulching  down  the  doctor's  pill,  ye 
dursn't  so  much  as  show  a  wrinkle  or  a  crinkle  on 
your  face  when  Parson  Rodney  is  in  his  pulpit," 
replied  the  carrier  with  emphasis. 

"'Cause  why?"  said  the  miller.  "I'll  tell  ye 
truly — 'tis  because  the  parson  gives  us  no  bitter 
pills,  only " 

"  That's  what  I've  been  leading  up  to,"  cried  the 
carrier  triumphantly.  "  The  parson,  like  thou- 
sands of  the  rest  of  his  cloth  throughout  the  length 
and  breadth  o'  the  land,  is  content  to  preach  pleas- 
ant things  only,  even  as  the  false  prophets  of  Israel 
prophesied  fair  things." 

"  And  why  shouldn't  he  be  content  to  preach 
pleasant  things,  friend  Jake,  if  so  be  that  we  be 
content  to  hear  them?  and  for  myself  I  would 
muchly  listen  to  an  hour  of  pleasant  things — ay, 
rather  than  half  an  hour  of  unhappy  ones." 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED  9 

"  Ah,  miller,  what  would  you  say  if  the  doctor, 
who,  when  he  saw  your  body  suffering  from  a 
canker,  gave  you  a  sugar-plum  and  withheld  his 
knife  from  cutting  out  the  plague  spot  because  you 
were  apt  to  be  squeamish  at  the  sight  of  blood- 
letting !  " 

There  was  an  uneasy  pause  when  the  carrier  had 
asked  this  rehearsed  question.  He  asked  it  with  a 
triumphant  air,  and,  as  if  he  felt  it  to  be  too  large  a 
question  to  be  answered  by  the  miller  single- 
handed,  he,  as  it  were,  swept  the  whole  company 
by  a  glance  into  his  interrogation. 

The  water-finder  made  a  motion  with  his  hands 
as  if  trying  to  smooth  away  an  imaginary  rough- 
ness in  the  air.  There  wras  a  general  feeling  that 
the  carrier  had  triumphed  in  his  argument.  He 
was  one  of  those  people  who,  by  speaking  in  an  air 
of  triumph,  succeed  in  making  some  people  believe 
that  they  have  triumphed.  The  farmer  shook  his 
head  with  the  disinterestedness  of  an  arbitrator. 
The  smith  continued  looking  into  the  empty  mug 
from  which  he  had  just  drunk.  The  silence  lasted 
several  seconds,  and  every  second  of  course  added 
to  the  triumph  of  the  carrier.  The  man  was  not, 
however,  adroit  enough  to  perceive  this.  He  was 
indiscreet  enough  to  break  the  silence.  When  his 
eyes  had  gone  round  the  company  they  returned  to 
the  miller. 

"  Answer  me  that  question,  man !  "  he  cried,  and 
then  everyone  knew  that  he  had  not  triumphed :  the 
last  word  had  not  been  said. 

"  I'll  answer  you  when  you  tell  me  if  you 
wouldn't  bear  friendly  feelings  for  a  doctor  who 
gives  you  a  sugar  plum  instead  of  blooding  you 
when  he  finds  you  reasonable  well,"  said  the  miller. 

"  'Tis  when  a  man  feels  healthiest  that  he  stands 


It 

most  in  need  of  blooding,"  said  Jake,  not  very 
readily  and  not  very  eagerly.  "  And  so  it  is  in  the 
health  of  the  soul.  '  Let  him  that  thinketh  he 
stand  take  heed  lest  he  fall.'  Friends,  is  there  one 
among  us  that  can  lay  his  hand  on  his  heart  and 
say  that  he  believes  that  our  parsons  do  their  dutj 
honestly  and  scripturally." 

"  It  took  you  a  deal  o'  time  to  lead  us  up  to  that 
point:  you'd  best  ha'  blurted  it  out  at  once,"  re- 
marked Hal  Holmes. 

"  Nay,  we  all  knew  that  it  was  a-coming,"  said 
the  farmer.  "  Since  Jake  found  himself  as  far 
away  from  home  as  Bristol  city,  he  has  never  lost  a 
chance  of  a  dig  at  the  parsons." 

"  I  don't  deny  that  my  eyes  were  opened  for  the 
first  time  at  Bristol,"  said  Jake.  "  Bristol  was  my 
Damascus,  farmer." 

The  farmer  gave  a  jerk  to  his  head,  for  the  car- 
rier had  laid  undue  emphasis  upon  the  first  syllable 
of  the  name. 

"  So  bad  as  that?  "  he  whispered. 

The  blacksmith  laughed. 

"  Not  so  bad,  farmer,"  he  said.  "  'Tis  only  our 
neighbour  Jake  that  compares  himself  with  St. 
Paul,  the  Apostle." 

"I  heard  the  profanity.  He  would  ha'  done 
better  to  abide  at  home,"  said  the  farmer  severely. 

The  blacksmith  laughed  again. 

"  There  fell,  as  it  were,  scales  from  my  eyes  when 
I  heard  preaching  for  the  first  time — when  I  heard 
a  parson  for  the  first  time,"  resumed  the  carrier, 
looking  out  of  a  window,  and  apparently  uncon- 
scious of  any  of  the  remarks  of  his  friends.  "  Ay, 
'twas  for  the  first  time,  albeit  I  had  scarce  missed 
church  for  a  whole  Sunday  since  I  were  a  lad. 
That  was  what  struck  me  most,  neighbours — that 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         11 

I  could  go  Sunday  after  Sunday,  in  good  black 
cloth,  too,  and  hear  the  holy  service  read,  in  a  sort 
of  way,  and  the  sacred  psalms  sung,  while  the  fiddle 
and  the  double  bass  and  the  viol  made  sweet  music, 
and  yet  have  no  real  and  true  yearning  after  the 
truth,  seems  little  short  of  a  miracle,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Not  when  one  knows  that  your  heart  was  hard, 
Jake — ay,  sir,  it  must  ha'  been  harder  than  steel," 
said  the  blacksmith,  shaking  his  head  in  mock 
gravity. 

"  You  scoff,  smith,  you  scoff,  I  know ;  but  you 
speak  the  truth  unwittingly,"  said  the  carrier  with 
some  sadness.  "  My  heart  was  like  the  nether  mill- 
stone— your  pardon,  miller,  I  meant  not  to  saj  a 
word  that  would  cast  a  slight  upon  your  calling: 
'tis  right  for  your  nether  millstone  to  be  hard." 

"  The  harder  the  better,  and  no  offence,  neigh- 
bour," said  the  miller  generously. 

"  None  Avas  meant,  sir,"  said  the  carrier.  "  We 
were  discoursing  of  my  heart — hard — hard.  And 
I  was  a  reader  o'  the  Book  all  my  life.  That's  the 
strange  thing;  but  I  sought  not  to  understand  what 
I  read  and  I  got  no  help  from  parson — no,  nor  yet 
from  Archdeacon  Eaton,  that  I  listened  to  twice — 
no,  nor  the  Dean  himself  in  his  own  Cathedral  at 
Exeter.  With  the  new  light  that  came  to  me,  I 
was  able  to  perceive  that  their  discourse  was  a  vain 
thing — not  helpful  to  a  simple  man  who  thought 
something  of  himself,  albeit  jangling  with  the  other 
tinkling  cymbals  every  Sunday,  kneeling  (on  the 
knees  of  my  body)  when  we  called  ourselves  miser- 
able sinners.  Miserable  sinners !  I  tell  ye,  friends, 
I  gave  no  thought  to  the  words.  I  slurred  through 
the  General  Confession  at  a  hand  gallop — just  the 
pace  that  parson  gets  into  when  he  warms  to  his 
work." 


12         THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

"  There's  few  left  of  the  cloth  and  none  of  the 
laity  can  pass  parson  when  he  gets  warmed  to  it. 
To  hear  him  in  the  Litany  is  like  watching  him  go 
'cross  country  when  he  be  mounted  on  King  George, 
his  big  roan/'  said  the  blacksmith  reflectively. 

"  There's  none  rides  straightlier,"  said  the 
farmer.  "  And  there's  no  better  or  steadier  flyer 
than  King  George,  first  foal  to  my  mare  Majesty. 
When  I  heard  that  parson  had  need  of  a  flyer  that 
was  a  flyer,  after  poor  Gossip  broke  her  neck  at  the 
Lyn  and  her  master's  left  arm,  I  held  back,  not  be- 
ing wishful  to  put  myself  for'ard,  though  I  knew 
what  I  knew,  and  knew  that  parson  knew  all  I 
knew  and  maybe  more  ;  but  he  got  wind  o'  the  foal, 
then  -  " 


"  One  at  a  time,  farmer  —  one  at  a  time  is  fair 
play  between  friends,"  said  the  miller,  nodding  in 
the  direction  of  Jake,  who  had  suffered  the  inter- 
ruption very  meekly. 

"  Your  pardon,  friend,"  said  the  farmer.  "  Only 
'twas  yourself  brought  in  the  parson's  pace.  For 
myself,  I  think  all  the  better  of  the  cloth  that  rides 
straight  to  hounds." 

"  '  Miserable  sinners,'  "  said  the  carrier,  picking 
up  the  thread  which  he  had  perforce  dropped.  "  I 
tell  ye,  neighbours,  that  there's  no  need  for  any 
parson,  be  he  a  plain  Vicar  or  of  high  rank  such  as 
a  Dean  —  nay,  a  consecrated  Bishop  —  no,  I'm  not 
going  too  far,  miller  —  I  say  in  cool  blood  and  in  no 
ways  excited,  a  consecrated  Lord  Bishop  —  I  say 
that  not  one  of  them  need  travel  in  discourse  all 
his  pulpit  life,  beyond  that  text  *  Miserable  sin- 
ners.' That  was  his  text  —  the  one  I  heard  at 
Bristol.  '  Miserable  sinners.'  For  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  knew  what  the  words  meant.  I  felt 
them  —  I  felt  them  —  words  of  fire  —  I  tell  ye  that  I 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         13 

felt  them  burn  into  me.  That  was  at  first — when 
he  began  to  preach;  a  red-hot  iron  brand  stinging 
me  all  over,  and  before  he  had  done  I  felt  as  if  all 
my  poor  body  had  been  seared  over  and  over  again 
with  red-hot  letters  that  go  to  the  spelling  of  '  mis- 
erable sinners.'  You  mind  Joe  Warden's  trial 
when  we  were  lads,  and  how  he  was  branded  in  the 
forehead  and  right  hand  before  he  was  sent  to  the 
pillory.  He  uttered  neither  cry  nor  moan  when 
the  hot  iron  burst  his  skin " 

"  I  smell  the  smell  o't  in  my  nose  this  moment," 
said  the  water-finder  gently.  The  farmer  nodded. 

"  But  the  look  that  was  on  his  face  when  he  stood 
up  there  a  marked  man  forever !  "  cried  the  original 
speaker.  "  It  told  everyone  that  had  eyes  what  the 
man  felt,  and  that  was  how  I  felt,  multiplied  an 
hundred  fold,  when  my  preacher  had  done  with  me. 
I  felt  from  the  first  that  he  had  singled  out  me — 
only  me  out  of  all  that  assembly,  and  when  he  had 
done  with  me,  I  say  that  I  could  feel  myself  feeling 
as  Joe  Warden  felt,  the  rebel  who  suffered  for 
slandering  the  King's  Majesty." 

"  'Tis  no  marvel  that  the  man  has  had  most  of 
the  church  doors  banged  in  's  face,  if  so  be  that  he 
makes  genteel  churchgoers  with  ordinary  failings 
to  feel  so  unwholesome,"  remarked  the  smith. 

"  And  so  you  corned  away,"  said  the  farmer. 
"  Well,  I  wouldn't  look  back  on  it  as  if  I  w^as  satis- 
fied. If  I  want  that  sort  o'  preaching  I'll  e'en 
throw  myself  prone  on  my  nine-acre  field  when  the 
seed's  in,  and  command  my  man  Job  to  pass  the 
harrow  o'er  the  pelt  o'  my  poor  carcase." 

"  I've  only  told  you  of  that  part  of  his  sermon 
that  made  one  feel  sore  and  raw  with  hot  wounds 
all  over,"  said  Jake.  "  That  was  one  part.  I  told 
you  not  of  the  hand  that  poured  soothing  oil  and 


14         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

precious  ointment  into  the  wounds — that  came 
after.  And  the  oil  was  as  holy  soothing  as  what 
ran  down  over  Aaron's  beard  even  unto  the  skirts 
of  his  garment,  and  the  ointment  was  as  precious 
as  Mary  Magdalen's  of  spikenard — in  the  alabaster 
box,  whose  odour  filled  the  whole  house.  The 
whole  life  of  me  became  sweetened  with  the  blessed 
words  that  fell  from  his  lips.  I  felt  no  longer  the 
sting  of  the  brand  of  the  truth  that  had  made  me 
to  tingle  all  over.  Oh,  the  dew  of  Hermon's  holy 
hill  was  not  more  soothing  than  the  words  of  gra- 
cious comfort  that  came  from  him.  I  had  a  sense 
of  being  healed  and  made  whole.  The  joy  of  it !  A 
cup  of  cold  spring  water  when  one  has  toiled 
through  a  long  hot  harvest  day.  Oh,  more  than 
that.  The  falling  of  a  burden  from  off  my 
shoulders  like  the  great  burden  of  Christian,  the 
Pilgrim;  and  then  the  joy — the  confidence — the 
surety — I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  felt — 'tis  over  much 
for  me,  neighbours — over  much  for  me  to  attempt." 

"  Say  no  more,  Jake ;  you  have  made  a  good 
•enough  trial  for  such  as  us,"  said  the  miller,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  the  carrier's  shoulder,  and  speak- 
ing only  after  a  long  pause.  The  others  of  the 
party  began  to  breathe  again,  some  of  them  very 
audibly. 

The  carrier's  eyes  were  shining  with  an  expres- 
sion his  friends  had  never  before  seen  them  wear. 
He  had  been  swept  away  by  the  force  and  fervour 
of  his  words,  and  like  one  who  has  been  breathing 
of  a  rarer  atmosphere  than  that  of  the  plain,  he 
gasped  for  several  moments,  and  then  there  was  a 
sob  in  his  throat.  He  went  quickly  to  the  door  and, 
letting  into  the  room  the  sudden  glow  of  a  beauti- 
ful Spring  sunset,  he  passed  into  the  open  air,  with- 
out Bpeaking  another  word. 


CHAPTER    II 

No  one  in  the  room  had  watched  the  man  except 
in  a  furtive  way,  after  he  had  spoken,  although 
while  he  was  speaking  every  eye  had  been  fixed 
upon  him.  The  sight  of  the  effect  of  a  great  emo- 
tion makes  some  people  feel  strangely  abashed, 
and  the  miller  and  his  friends  were  among  such 
persons.  When  the  carrier  had  gone  they  re- 
mained silent  for  some  time.  Each  of  them  seemed 
to  be  thinking  his  thoughts. 

"  Poor  Jake !  "  said  the  miller  at  last.  "  He  was 
ever  the  sort  of  man  that  would  be  like  to  have  a 
twist,  and  he  hath  got  one  now.  He's  made  us 
forget  the  cider,  lads.  Blest  if  the  jug  has  been 
touched  since  Jake  began  his  story !  Hal,  man,  pass 
the  jug  to  your  neighbour.  'Tis  Jake  that  should 
have  swallowed  a  mouthful  before  he  left:  talking 
is  drouthier  work  than  listening." 

The  smith  passed  on  the  jug  of  cider  without  re- 
plenishing his  own  mug ;  and  then  knocked  the  ashes 
out  of  the  bowl  of  his  pipe. 

"  I  don't  know  that  there's  a  deal  in  all  this,"  he 
remarked.  "  What  do  you  say,  miller?  " 

"  I  don't  say  nought :  I  only  looks  on,"  replied 
the  miller  cautiously. 

"  Ay,  that  may  be,"  said  the  smith.  "  We  all 
know  Jake.  He  never  wronged  his  fellow — nay, 
there's  some  of  us  knows  that  if  the  worst  came  to 
the  worst  with  us,  Jake  'ud  be  the  first  to  hold  out 
a  helping  hand,  with  a  guinea  or  two  in  it,  as  the 
case  may  be.  Still  there  may  be  something  in  what 

15 


16         THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED 

he  said  about  being  brought  to  feel  himself  a  mis- 
erable sinner." 

"  He  allowed  that  the  preacher  on'y  kept  him  in 
that  suspensory  way  o'  thought  for  a  brief  space," 
said  the  miller. 

"  Ay,  there's  men  that  be  mortal  sinners,  and  for 
all  that  their  luck  is  tremendous  and  saves 
'em  from  the  eye  of  their  fellow-men,"  said  the 
smith. 

"  I  feel  bound  to  say  this  to  the  credit  o'  parson," 
remarked  the  water-finder  with  deprecatory 
suavity :  "  he  never  makes  a  simple  countryman  feel 
himself  to  be  a  miserable  sinner.  He  is  of  such  a 
good  nature  that  he  slurs  over  the  General  Confes- 
sion so  genteelly  that  I  defy  the  wickedest  of  his 
churchful  to  feel  in  any  ways  as  if  parson  was  dic- 
tating the  words  to  him." 

"  That  shows  that  parson's  heart  be  in  the  right 
place,"  nodded  the  farmer.  "  He  gives  us  all  to 
understand  at  a  glance  that  he  reads  the  words 
'cause  they  are  set  down  for  him  in  the  solemn 
prayer  book,  and  hopes  that  there's  none  among  his 
hearers  who  will  hold  him  responsible  as  a  man  for 
their  ungentility." 

"  True,  sir,  true ;  parson's  an  am'able  gentleman, 
always  'cepting  when  the  cock  he  has  hatched  from 
the  noblest  game  strain  fails  him  in  the  first  main," 
said  the  blacksmith. 

"  And  who  is  he  that  would  be  different,  tell  me 
that?  "  cried  the  miller,  who  had  fought  a  few  cocks 
in  the  course  of  his  life.  "  Ay,  we  be  well  content 
wi'  parson,  we  be  so ;  but  I  don't  say  that  if  Jake's 
Bristol  preacher  came  within  earshot  I  would  re- 
fuse to  listen  to  him — only  out  o'  curiosity — only 
out  o'  curiosity.  But  I  do  wonder  much  that  a  man 
o'  the  steadiness  o'  Jake  Pullsford  owning  himself 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED        171 

overcome  by  a  parson  that  has  no  church  of  his 
own." 

"  'Tis  as  humble  as  allowing  a  toothache  to  be 
cured  by  a  quack  at  a  fair,  when  a  wholesome 
Doctor  of  Physic,  like  Mr.  Corballis,  has  wrestled 
with  it  for  a  whole  week,"  said  the  water-finder. 
"  I  hope  I  haven't  offended  any  friend  by  my  home- 
liness when  the  talk  was  serious,"  he  added,  glanc- 
ing around,  not  without  apprehension. 

No  one  took  the  trouble  to  say  a  word  that  might 
place  him  at  his  ease.  The  farmer  took  a  hasty 
drink  out  of  his  mug,  and  sighed  after.  The  black- 
smith cut  up  some  tobacco  and  rolled  it  between  his 
palms.  There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  room.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  weakness  which  Jake,  the  carrier, 
had  displayed  had  saddened  the  little  company. 
It  was  pretty  clear  that  they  were  all  thinking  of  it. 

"  Hey,  neighbours,"  cried  the  miller  at  last,  with 
a  loud  attempt  to  pull  his  friends  together.  "  Hey 
lads,  what's  amiss?  These  be  doleful  dumps  that 
have  fallen  on  us.  A  plague  on  Jake  and  his  quack 
preacher!  Now,  if  I'm  not  better  satisfied  than 
ever  with  parson  may  I  fail  to  know  firsts  from  sec- 
onds by  a  sniff  of  the  dust.  Come,  farmer,  tell  Hal 
wrhat  answer  you  gave  to  Squire's  young  lady  when 
she  asked  you  if  you  made  the  cows  drink  wine 
wouldn't  they  milk  syllabub?  He  told  me  before 
you  looked  in,  Hal!  Droll,  it  was  surely.  You'd 
never  think  that  the  farmer  had  it  in  him." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  the  farmer  with  a  smile  that 
broke  up  his  face  into  the  semblance  of  a  coloured 
diagram  of  the  canals  in  Mars.  "  Nay,  miller, 
'twas  on  the  spur  o'  the  moment.  I  had  no  time  to 
think  o'  some  ready  reply  that  a  young  miss  might 
think  suitable  to  her  station  in  life  coming  from  a 
humble  yeoman  that  has  no  learning  but  of  tillage." 


18         THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

"  I'll  swear  you'll  esteem  it  neat  as  a  sheep's 
tongue,"  said  the  miller.  "  Come,  farmer,  out  with 
it,  and  don't  force  me  to  spoil  it  i'  the  telling." 

"  Oh,  well "  began  the  farmer,  pursing  out 

his  lips  and  assuming  the  expression  of  one  who  is 
forced  into  a  position  of  enviable  prominence. 
"  Oh,  well,  'twas  o'  Tuesday  last — or  was  it  Mon- 
day, miller?  " 

"  You  told  me  Monday,"  replied  the  miller. 

"Did  I?  Well,  if  I  said  Monday  I  sticks  to  it 
whatever  may  hap;  for  as  ye  know  me,  friends,  I 
don't  go  back  on  my  word,  even  though  I  be  wrong, 
that  being  my  way,  so  to  speak,  that  came  natural 
to  me  ever  since  poor  father  said  to  me— 

But  the  revelation  as  to  the  terms  of  his  father's 
discourse  which  had  produced  so  lasting  an  impres- 
sion upon  him,  was  not  to  be  made  at  that  time; 
for  before  the  slow  farmer  had  spoken,  the  porch 
door  was  opened,  and  there  appeared  against  the 
background  of  the  spring  green  side  of  the  little 
valley  slope,  the  figure  of  a  young  girl,  rather  tall, 
wearing  a  cloak  by  the  lined  hood  of  which  her 
pretty  face  was  framed. 

"  Hey,"  cried  the  miller,  "  this  be  an  improve- 
ment. After  all  we  won't  need  your  story,  farmer." 

"  Your  servant,  Master  Miller — gentlemen,  I  am 
your  most  obedient  to  command  now  as  ever,"  said 
the  girl,  dropping  a  curtsey  first  to  the  miller,  then 
to  his  guests.  "  Oh,  Master  Hal,  black  but  comely 
as  usual,  and  rather  more  idle  than  usual.  And 
Farmer  Pendelly,  too — fresh  as  a  new-washed 
cherub  on  a  tombstone.  Master  Pritchard,  with 
his  magic  wand  up  his  sleeve,  I  doubt  not.  I  didn't 
know  that  you  was  entertaining  a  party,  miller,  or 
I— I " 

"  Don't  tell  us  that  you  would  ha'  tarried,  Nelly ; 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         19 

that  would  be  to  pay  a  bad  compliment  to  my  com- 
pany as  well  as  to  me,"  said  the  miller. 

"  I  was  about  to  say  that  I  would  have  hurried, 
not  tarried.  Maybe  I'll  not  tarry  even  now,  in 
spite  of  the  attractions  you  hold  out,  sir." 

While  she  spoke  the  girl  conveyed  the  impression 
of  making  another  general  curtsey  to  the  company, 
though  she  had  merely  glanced  around  at  them  with 
an  inclusive  smile.  She  made  a  pretty  pretence 
of  drawing  her  cloak  around  her — she  had  thrown 
back  the  hood  immediately  after  entering  the  room 
— and  made  a  movement  towards  the  door. 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  think  of  fleeing,  hussy,"  said 
the  miller.  "  If  you  wras  to  flee  just  now,  there's 
not  one  of  us  here  that  wouldn't  hale  thee  back  by 
the  hair  o'  the  head — and  a  nobler  tow  line  couldn't 
be  found." 

He  had  put  his  arms  about  her  and  patted  her 
hair,  which  was  the  lightest  chestnut  in  colour,  and 
shining  like  very  fine  unspun  silk. 

"  Hey,  Nelly,  where  did  ye  pick  up  that  head  of 
hair,  anyway?  All  your  household  be  black  as 
night,"  he  continued. 

"  Where's  the  puzzle,  sir?  "  said  she,  without  a 
suggestion  of  sauciness.  "  I  favour  the  night,  too, 
only  a  moonlight  night.  My  hair  is  the  flash  o' 
moonlight." 

"  The  lass  never  was  slack  in  speaking  up  for 
herself,"  said  the  blacksmith. 

"  True,  friend  Hal ;  but  haven't  I  ever  been  mod- 
erate? Have  I  ever  gone  even  half-way  to  describe 
my  own  charms?  "  said  the  girl  with  a  mock  seri- 
ousness that  set  everyone  laughing — they  roared 
when  she  looked  at  them  more  seriously  still,  as 
if  reproving  their  levity. 

"  I'll  not  stay  here  to  be  flouted,"  she  cried  withi 


20         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

a  pout,  giving  the  miller  a  pat  on  the  cheek.  "  Ah, 
here  comes  Sue  to  protect  me.  Dear  Sue,  you  come 
in  good  time.  Tell  these  gentlemen  that  I  haven't 
a  red  hair  in  my  head,  and  as  for  its  being  good 
only  to  make  towing  lines  of— 

Here  she  broke  down  and  fell  sobbing  into  the 
arms  of  Susan  Pendelly,  a  girl  of  about  her  own 
age,  who  had  entered  the  room  by  the  door  that  led 
to  the  parlour.  For  a  few  moments  Susan  was 
puzzled,  for  Nelly  went  through  her  piece  of  acting 
extremely  well,  but  the  laughter  of  the  miller  and 
the  smith — the  farmer  and  the  water-finder  were 
not  quite  sure,  so  they  remained  solemn — quickly 
let  her  know  that  Nelly  was  up  to  a  prank,  so  she 
put  her  arms  about  her  and  pretended  to  soothe 
her,  calling  the  men  ill-mannered  wretches,  and 
shaking  her  fist  at  them.  Susan  was  a  little  heavy 
and  homely  in  her  comedy. 

"  Towing  line  indeed !  "  she  said,  looking  indig- 
nantly over  Nelly's  bowed  head  at  the  men.  "  Tow- 
ing line  indeed!  Why  'tis  the  loveliest  hair  in 
Cornwall." 

"  A  towing  line,"  said  her  father,  laughing.  "  A 
towing  line  that  has  drawn  more  craft  in  its  wake 
than  any  twenty-oared  galley  of  a  man-o'-war.  Oh, 
the  poor  fools  that  try  to  get  a  grip  o'  that  towing 
line !  Let  me  count  them.  First  there  was  Spanish 
Roderick " 

The  girl  lifted  up  her  head  from  her  friend's 
shoulder. 

"  Spanish  Roderigo  the  first!  "  she  cried.  "  Oh, 
miller,  I  did  think  that  my  reputation  was  safe  in 
your  keeping!  Why,  sir,  there  were  three  after 
me  long  before  Roderigo  showed  his  face  at  the 
Cove." 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  madam ;  I  did  you  an  in- 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         21 

justice;  you  began  the  towing  business  when  you 
were  twelve " 

"  Ten,  miller — ten,  if  you  love  me.  You  would 
not  accuse  a  simple  girl  of  wasting  her  time." 

"  Once  again,  your  pardon,  miss.  I'll  make  it 
nine,  if  so  be  that  you  wish." 

"  I  have  no  wish  in  the  matter,  sir.  I'm  nought 
but  a  simple  country  wench  with  no  wish  but  to  be 
let  live  in  peace." 

"  Tell  us  how  many  lads  are  dangling  after  you 
at  the  present  moment,  Nell — dangling  like  mack- 
erel on  the  streamers?  " 

"  How  could  I  possibly  tell,  sir?  Do  you  suppose 
that  my  father  knows  to  a  fish  how  many  mackerel 
are  on  his  cast  of  streamers  at  any  time?  You 
should  have  more  sense,  miller.  The  most  that  I 
can  speak  for  is  the  five  that  I  angled  for." 

"  The  impudence  of  the  girl !  She  allows  that 
she  angled  for  five !  " 

"  Miller,  you  would  not  have  me  treat  them  like 
trout  and  whip  for  them  with  a  rod  and  a  single 
hook.  Oh,  no,  sir,  that  would  not  be  worth  the 
while.  You  see,  miller,  there  are  so  many  of  them 
swimming  about — and — and — well,  life  is  brief." 

"  'Tis  my  belief,  Nelly,  that  there's  a  hook  on 
everv  hair  of  your  head  and  a  foolish  lad  wriggling 
on  it." 

"  You  compliment  my  fishing  too  highly,  sir.  If 
I  thought  that " 

"  Well,  what  would  happen  if  you  thought  that, 
madam?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  I  believe  that  I  would  e'en  weave  my 
hair  into  a  reasonable  fishing-net  to  save  time  and 
a  diffusion  of  wriggling.  There  now,  miller,  we 
have  had  said  the  last  word  between  us  of  this  non- 
sense. I  know  what  I  am,  and  you  know  what  I 


22         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

am — a  healthy,  wholesome  country  wench,  that  two 
or  three  lads  think  well  of,  and  as  many  more  think 
ill  of — they  don't  get  distraught  about  me  on  the 
one  hand,  and  they  don't  have  any  particular 
enmity  of  me  on  the  other  hand.  That's  the  way 
with  all  girls,  even  such  as  are  black-browed,  and 
hard-voiced,  which  no  one  has  yet  accused  me  of 
being,  and  I've  walked  seven  miles  from  Porthawn 
within  the  two  hours  to  give  you  my  father's  mes- 
sage about  Rowan's  corner,  and  when  I've  given  it 
to  you,  I  have  to  trudge  back  with  a  six-pound  bag 
of  your  best  seconds  to  keep  us  from  starvation  for 
a  day  or  two." 

"  You'll  not  trudge  back  before  the  morning  if 
I  have  any  say  in  the  matter,"  cried  the  miller's 
daughter,  catching  up  the  other's  cloak  and  throw- 
ing it  over  one  arm.  "  Come  hither,  Nelly,  and 
we'll  have  a  chat  in  the  parlour,  like  the  well- 
to-do  folk  that  we  be;  these  men  can  have  this 
place  to  themselves  till  the  time  comes  to  lay  out 
supper." 

"  Supper !  what  good  pixie  made  you  say  that 
word?  "  cried  the  other  girl.  "  If  you  hadn't  said 
it  it  would  have  clean  gone  from  my  mind  that  I 
brought  with  me  a  stale  fish  or  two  that  was  left 
over  from  our  dinner  on  Sunday  week.  What  a 
memory  I  lack,  to  be  sure ! " 

She  picked  up  a  rush  basket  which  she  had  placed 
on  the  floor  when  she  was  taking  off  her  cloak,  and 
handed  it  to  Susan. 

"  You  young  rapparee !  "  said  the  miller.  "  Did 
it  not  cross  your  foolish  pate  that  a  basket  of  fish 
a  week  old  and  more  is  fully  capable  of  betraying 
its  presence  without  the  need  for  a  laboured 
memory?  " 

"  I  know  that  that  basket  betrayed"  its  presence 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED        23 

to  me  more  than  once  as  it  hung  on  my  arm  after 
the  first  three  mile  hither,"  said  the  girl. 

"  As  I  live  'tis  a  seven-pound  pink  salmon,  and 
'twas  swimming  in  the  sea  at  noon  this  day,"  said 
Susan  when  she  had  opened  the  basket. 

"  She  must  ha'  heard  that  we  were  supping  at 
the  mill  this  eve'n,  and  that  I  was  of  the  company," 
said  the  blacksmith.  "  Mistress  Polwhele,  my 
respects  to  you !  " 

"Nay,  Master  Hal,  had  I  known  that  you  were 
to  be  of  the  company,  the  salmon  would  ha'  been  a 
fifteen-pounder  at  least — that  is  if  I  wanted  any  of 
the  others  to  have  a  mouthful,"  laughed  the  girl. 

She  was  out  of  the  room  before  the  blacksmith 
had  ceased  rattling  his  chair  in  his  pretence  of  ris- 
ing to  carry  out  the  menace  he  made  with  his  fist 
when  she  was  speaking. 

The  miller  and  his  guests  watched  in  silence  the 
door  through  which  she  had  gone. 

"A  bit  of  a  change  from  Jake  Pullsford,  eh, 
friends !  "  remarked  Hal. 

"  That's  what  we  needed  sorely,"  said  the  miller. 


CHAPTER    III 

LIFE  did  not  seem  to  be  strenuous  in  the  valley  of 
the  Lana,  seven  miles  from  the  fishing  village  of 
Porthawn,  and  thirty  from  Falmouth,  when  the 
eighteenth  century  still  wanted  more  than  ten  years 
of  completing  its  first  half.  To  be  sure,  the  high 
road  to  Plymouth  was  not  so  very  far  away,  and 
coaches  with  passengers  and  luggage  flew  daily 
across  the  little  bridge  of  the  Lana  at  the  rate 
sometimes  of  as  much  as  nine  miles  an  hour;  and 
the  consciousness  of  this  made  the  people  of  the 
village  of  Euthallion  think  rather  well  of  them- 
selves— so  at  least  the  dwellers  in  the  more  remote 
parts  of  the  region  were  accustomed  to  affirm.  The 
generous  were  ready  to  allow  that  the  most  humble- 
minded  of  people  would  think  well  of  themselves 
if  they  were  so  favourably  situated  in  regard  to  the 
great  world  as  to  be  able  to  get  news  from  London 
only  a  few  days  old,  simply  by  waiting  at  the  turn 
of  the  Plymouth  road  until  a  coach  came  up. 

But  of  this  privilege  the  people  of  that  most  scat- 
tered of  all  Cornish  villages,  Ruthallion,  did  not 
avail  themselves  to  any  marked  extent,  except  upon 
occasions  of  great  national  importance ;  such  as  the 
achievement  of  a  victory  by  King  George's  army  in 
the  Low  Countries,  or  by  the  King's  ships  in  the 
West  Indies.  In  the  latter  case  the  news  usually 
came  from  the  Plymouth  side  of  the  high  road. 
For  the  sober  discussion  of  such  news  in  all  its 
bearings,  it  was  understood  that  the  Lana  Mill, 
situated  as  it  was  in  the  valley  within  a  few  hun- 

24 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         25 

dred  yards  of  the  village,  and  having  a  little  cause- 
way off  the  Porthawn  road  all  to  itself,  occupied  a 
most  favourable  position.  There  was  no  inn  with 
a  well-lighted  bar-parlour  within  four  miles  of  the 
place,  and  the  miller  was  hospitable.  He  was  said 
to  be  the  inheritor  of  an  important  secret  in  regard 
to  the  making  of  cider,  and  it  was  no  secret  that  his 
autumnal  brew  had  a  flavour  that  was  unsurpassed 
by  any  cider  produced  in  Cornwall,  or  (as  some 
people  said)  in  the  very  apple-core  of  Devonshire 
itself. 

Miller  Pendelly  was  known  to  be  a  warm  man 
in  more  senses  than  one.  He  had  not  only  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  property  apart  from  the  mill, 
which  the  unfailing  waters  of  the  Lana  fed ;  he  was 
a  warm-hearted  man,  though  one  of  the  most  dis- 
creet that  could  be  imagined.  When  it  was  a 
charity  to  give,  he  gave  freely,  but  he  showed  him- 
self to  be  well  aware  of  the  fact  that  sometimes 
charity  consists  in  withholding  one's  hand.  He 
was  not  a  man  that  could  be  easily  imposed-upon; 
though,  like  all  shrewd  people,  he  allowed  three  or 
four  ne'er-do-wells  to  borrow  from  him — once.  He 
talked  of  every  such  case  with  great  bitterness  on 
his  tongue,  but  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  that 
assured  his  confidants  that  he  knew  what  he  was 
about.  To  rid  the  neighbourhood  of  an  idle  youth 
who  was  robbing  an  easy-going  father,  was  surely 
worth  the  disbursement  of  five  guineas;  and  the 
expatriation  of  a  hard-drinking  husband  was  not 
dear  at  six. 

He,  himself,  was  a  good  husband  to  a  good  wife, 
and  the  father  of  a  girl,  who,  though  well  favoured, 
was  discreet — a  girl  who  loved  her  home  and  all  it 
contained  better  than  she  did  any  possible  lover. 

The  miller's  friends  were  just  equal  in  number  to 


26         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  and  of  the  villages  of 
Porthawn  and  Ruthallion.  Even  the  mother  of  the 
worthless  youth  who  had  disappeared  with  the  five 
guineas,  and  the  wife  of  the  bibulous  husband  who 
had  not  returned  after  contracting  his  loan  of  six, 
became,  in  the  course  of  time,  his  friends,  and  al- 
most forgave  him  for  his  exercise  of  generosity. 
But  among  his  neighbours  there  were  none  whom 
he  met  on  such  friendly  terms  as  those  to  whom  he 
turned  with  a  side-nod  of  his  head  when  the  girls 
had  gone. 

"  They  may  spare  their  breath  who  would  tell  me 
that  the  ill-favoured  ones  are  the  best  daughters," 
said  he. 

"  I'll  not  be  the  first  to  advance  that  doctrine  to 
the  father  of  Susan  Pendelly,"  said  the  blacksmith. 

The  miller  laughed. 

"  Sue  was  not  in  my  thought,"  he  cried — "  at 
least  not  when  I  spoke,  though  thinking  of  her  now 
only  makes  me  stronger  in  my  opinion.  'Twas  the 
sight  "of  t'other  lass.  Merry  she  be  and  with  a 
sharp  enough  tongue,  but  was  there  ever  a  better 
daughter  than  Nelly  Polwhele,  tell  me  that,  Hal?" 

"  A  fine  salmon  fish  it  be  surely,"  said  the  black- 
smith. "  Seven  pounds,  I'll  wager,  if  'tis  an 
ounce." 

"  Out  upon  thee  for  a  curmudgeon,"  shouted  the 
miller,  giving  the  blacksmith  a  push  of  a  vehemence 
so  friendly  that  he  with  difficulty  retained  his  place 
on  the  settee. 

"  'Tis  a  mortal  pity  that  so  spirited  a  mare  foal 
will  be  tamed  sooner  or  later — that's  the  way  with 
all  female  flesh  whether  well-favoured  or  black-a- 
vised,"  remarked  the  farmer. 

Richard  Pritchard,  who  was  the  only  single  man 
present,  shook  his  head  with  as  great  a  show  of 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         27 

gravity  as  if  he  had  spent  his  life  taming  spirited 
things. 

His  arrogance  aroused  his  host. 

"  And  what  are  you  that  gives  yourself  airs,  my 
man?"  he  cried.  "What  call  has  a  worm  of  a 
bachelor  to  let  his  tongue  wag  on  a  matter  that 
might  well  make  owdacious  fathers  o'  families  keep 
dead  silence?  Richard  Pritchard,  my  good  man, 
this  talk  is  not  for  such  as  thee.  Thou  beest  a  mid- 
dling silent  man  by  nature,  Dick,  and  for  that  thou 
shouldst  be  thankful  when  wild  words  be  flying 
abroad  on  household  matters." 

"  I  allow  that  I  went  too  far,  neighbour,  though 
I  call  all  to  witness  that  I  did  not  open  my  mouth 
to  speak,"  said  the  water-finder,  with  great 
humility. 

"  You  are  aye  over  daring,  though  never  all- 
through  immoral,  Dick,"  said  the  blacksmith 
gravely. 

"  I  allow  that  I  earned  reproof,  friend,"  said 
Richard.  "  We  all  be  human,  and  many  have 
frail  thought  of  high  language,  and  a  proud  heart 
at  the  hope  of  wisdom  and  ancient  learning.  But  I 
take  reproof  with  no  ill-feeling." 

The  miller  roared  at  the  success  of  his  jest. 

"  Richard  Pritchard,  if  I  didn't  know  you  for  a 
brave  Welshman,  I  would  take  you  for  a  Dorset 
dairyman  that's  so  used  to  the  touch  o'  butter  they 
say  it  wouldn't  melt  in  their  mouths,"  he  cried 
when  he  found  breath. 

At  this  point  Mistress  Pendelly  bustled  into  the 
room,  which  was  not  the  kitchen,  but  only  a  sort 
of  business-room  of  the  mill,  with  the  message  that 
supper  would  not  be  ready  so  soon  as  she  could 
wish;  the  salmon  steaks  took  their  own  time  to 
cook,  she  affirmed,  and  expressed  the  hope  that  her 


28         THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

friends  would  be  able  to  hold  out  for  another  half 
hour. 

"  Make  no  excuses,  mother,"  said  her  husband. 
"  Why,  good  wife,  the  very  sound  of  the  frizzling 
will  keep  us  alive  in  hope,  and  the  smell  that 
creeps  through  the  crevices  of  the  kitchen  door  is 
nigh  as  satisfying  as  a  full  meal  in  itself." 

"  Speak  for  yourself  if  you  are  so  minded, 
miller,"  cried  Hal  Holmes.  "  Sup  off  the  sound  of 
a  frizzle  mixed  with  the  sniff  of  a  well-greased  pan, 
if  you  so  please,  but  give  me  a  flake  or  two  o' 
salmon  flesh,  good  mother,  the  pink  o'  the  body  just 
showing  through  the  silver  o'  the  scales.  Oh,  a 
lady  born  is  your  sea  salmon  with  her  pink  com- 
plexion shining  among  the  folds  o'  her  silver 
lace!" 

"  Ay,  sir,  better  than  that  your  praise  should  be, 
for  the  fish's  beauty  is  more  than  skin  deep,"  said 
the  housewife,  as  she  stood  with  the  kitchen  door 
half  open. 

The  miller  winked  at  his  friends  when  she  had 
disappeared. 

"  Canst  better  that,  Hal?  "  he  enquired. 

"  Vanity  to  try,"  replied  the  blacksmith.  "  A 
man's  good  enough  maybe  for  the  catching  o'  a 
salmon,  but  it  needs  a  woman's  deft  fingers  to  cook 
it.  You  see  through  my  proverb,  miller?  " 

"  It  needs  no  spying  glass,  Hal,"  said  the  miller. 
"  The  interpretation  thereof  is  in  purpose  that  it 
needs  a  woman's  nimble  wit  to  put  a  finishing  touch 
to  a  simple  man's  discourse,  howsoever  well  meant 
it  may  be.  Eh,  farmer?  " 

"  'Tis  different  wi'  pilchards,  as  is  only  natural, 
seeing  what  sort  of  eating  they  be,"  said  the 
farmer  shrewdly ;  he  found  that  he  had  been  wittier 
than  he  had  any  notion  of  being,  and  he  added  his 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         29 

loudest  chuckles  (when  he  had  recovered  from  his 
surprise)  to  the  roaring  of  the  miller's  laughter. 

It  was  Nelly  Polwhele  who  demanded  to  be  let 
Into  the  secret  of  the  merriment  so  soon  as  she  had 
returned  to  the  room  with  Susan,  and  when  the 
miller  told  her,  with  an  illuminating  wink  and  a 
shrewd  nod,  she  laughed  in  so  musical  a  note  with 
her  hands  uplifted  that  the  farmer  pursed  out  his 
lips  in  pride  at  his  own  wit.  He  was  not  without  a 
hope  that  he  might  find  out,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  wherein  the  point  of  it  lay. 

Meantime  Nelly  was  looking  anxiously  around 
the  room. 

"What's  gone  wrong  wi'  the  girl?"  said  the 
miller.  "  Oh,  I  see  how  things  be :  'tis  so  long  since 
she  was  here  the  place  seems  strange  to  her.  Is  't 
not  so,  Nelly?  " 

"  Partly,  sir,"  replied  the  girl.  "  But  mainly  I 
was  looking  to  see  where  Mr.  Pullsford  was  hiding. 
You  can't  be  supping  in  good  style  and  he  absent." 

"  Give  no  heed  to  Mr.  Pullsford,  whether  he  be 
here  or  not ;  spend  your  time  in  telling  us  where  you 
yourself  have  been  hiding  for  the  past  month,"  cried 
the  miller. 

"  She  has  not  been  hiding,  she  has  been  doing  just 
the  opposite — displaying  herself  to  the  fashionable 
world,"  said  Susan. 

"  Hey,  what's  all  this?  "  said  the  miller.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  us  that  you've  been  as  far  as 
Plymouth?" 

"  Plymouth,  indeed !  Prithee,  where's  the  rank 
and  fashion  at  Plymouth,  sir? "  cried  Nelly. 
"  Nay,  sir,  'tis  to  the  Bath  I  have  been,  as  befits 
one  in  my  station  in  life." 

"The  Bath? — never,"  exclaimed  the  miller, 
while  the  girl,  lifting  up  her  dress  with  a  dainty; 


30         THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

finger  and  thumb  to  the  extent  of  an  inch  or  two, 
went  mincing  past  him  down  the  room,  followed  by 
the  eyes  of  the  blacksmith  and  the  others  of  the 
party.  "  'Tis  in  jest  you  speak,  you  young  baggage 
— how  would  such  as  you  ever  get  as  far  as  the 
Bath?" 

"  It  sounds  like  a  fancy  freak,  doth  it  not  truly ; 
and  yet  'tis  the  sober  truth,"  said  Nelly.  "  At  the 
Bath  I  was,  and  there  I  kept  for  a  full  month,  in 
the  very  centre  core  of  all  the  grandest  that  the 
world  has  in  store.  I  didn't  find  myself  a  bit  out 
of  place,  I  protest." 

"  Hear  the  girl !  "  exclaimed  the  miller.  "  She 
talks  with  the  cold  assurance  of  a  lady  of  quality — 
not  that  I  ever  did  meet  with  one  to  know;  but — 
and  the  fun  of  it  is  that  she  wouldn't  be  out  of 
place  in  the  most  extravagant  company.  Come, 
then,  tell  us  how  it  came  about.  Who  was  it  kid- 
napped thee?  " 

And  then  the  girl  told  how  it  was  that  Squire 
Trelawny's  young  ladies  at  Court  Royal,  having 
lost  their  maid,  owing  to  her  marrying  in  haste, 
asked  her  to  take  the  young  woman's  place  for  a 
month  or  two  until  they  should  get  suited.  As  she 
had  always  been  a  favourite  with  them,  she  had 
consented,  and  they  had  forthwith  set  out  for  the 
Bath  with  the  Squire's  retinue  of  chariots  and 
horsemen,  and  there  they  had  sojourned  for  a 
month. 

"  'Tis,  indeed,  like  a  story  o'  pixies  and  their 
magic  and  the  like,"  said  the  miller.  "  I  knew  that 
the  young  ladies  and  you  was  ever  on  the  best  o' 
terms,  but  who  could  tell  that  it  would  come  to  such 
as  this?  And  I'll  wager  my  life  that  within  a  day 
and  a  night  you  could  tire  their  hair  and  dust  it 
wi'  powder  with  the  best  of  their  ladyships'  ladies. 


31 

And,  prithee,  what  saw  you  at  the  Bath  besides 
the  flunkies  o'  the  quality?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  ask  me  not  to  relate  to  you  all  that  I 
saw  and  noted,"  said  the  girl.  Every  day  of 
my  life  I  said,  '  What  a  place  the  world  is  to  be 
sure ! ' 

"  And  so  it  be,"  said  the  farmer  approvingly. 

"  Oh,  the  rank  and  fashion,  farmer,  such  as 
would  astonish  even  you,  and  you  are  a  travelled 
man,"  said  she. 

"  Ay,  I  have  been  as  wide  afield  as  Falmouth  on 
the  west  and  Weymouth  on  the  east,"  said  the 
farmer.  "  Ay,  I  know  the  world." 

"  Your  travels  have  ever  been  the  talk  of  the  six 
parishes,  sir,"  said  the  girl.  "  But  among  all  the 
strange  people  that  have  come  under  your  eyes,  I'll 
warrant  you  there  was  none  stranger  than  you 
might  find  at  the  Bath.  Have'  you  ever  in  your 
travels  crossed  ladies  sitting  upright  in  stumpy 
sentry  boxes  with  a  stout  fellow  bearing  it  along 
the  streets,  winging  'twixt  the  pair  o'  poles?  " 

"  Naught  so  curious  truly ;  but  I've  seen  honest 
and  honourable  men  that  had  heard  of  such  like," 
said  the  farmer. 

"  And  to  think  that  I  saw  them  with  these  eyes, 
and  link  boys,  when  there  was  no  moon,  and  con- 
certs of  music  in  the  Cave  of  Harmony,  night  by 
night,  and  two  gentlemen  fighting  in  a  field — this 
was  by  chance,  and  my  lady  passing  in  a  chariot 
sent  forth  a  shriek,  so  that  one  pistol  exploded  be- 
fore its  time,  and  the  bullet  graded  a  peaceful  gen- 
tleman, who  they  said  was  a  doctor  of  physic  com- 
ing quick  across  the  meadow,  scenting  a  fee !  " 

"  Pity  is  'twasn't  a  lawyer.  I  hoard  the  thought 
that  in  case  o'  a  fight  'twixt  friends,  the  lawyers 
hurry  up  as  wrell  as  the  doctors  in  hope  of  a  job," 


32         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

said  the  miller.  "  Well,  you've  seen  the  world  a 
deal  for  one  so  young,  Nelly,"  he  added. 

"  And  the  concerts  of  singing  and  the  assemblies 
and  the  beautiful  polite  dance  which  they  call  the 
minuet  were  as  nought  when  placed  alongside  the 
plays  in  the  playhouse,"  cried  Nelly. 

The  miller  became  grave. 

"  There  be  some  who  see  a  wicked  evil  in  going 
to  the  playhouse,"  he  remarked,  with  a  more  casual 
air  than  was  easy  to  him. 

"  That  I  have  heard,"  said  the  girl. 

"  They  say  that  a  part  o'  the  playhouse  is  called 
the  pit,"  suggested  the  farmer.  "  Ay,  I  saw  the 
name  over  the  door  at  Plymouth,  as  it  maybe  did 
you,  miller." 

"  And  some  jumped  at  the  notion  that  that  pit 
led  to  another  of  a  bottomless  sort?  "  said  the  girl. 
"  Well,  I  don't  say  that  'twas  the  remembrance  of 
that  only  that  drew  me  to  the  playhouse.  I  did  get 
something  of  a  shock,  I  allow,  when  my  young 
ladies  bade  me  attend  them  to  the  playhouse  one 
night,  but  while  I  sought  a  fair  excuse  for  'biding 
at  our  lodging  on  the  Mall,  I  found  myself  invent- 
ing excuses  for  obeying  my  orders,  and  I  must  say 
that  I  found  it  a  good  deal  easier  doing  this  than 
t'other." 

"Ay,  ay,  I  doubt  not  that — oh,  no,  we  doubt  it 
not,"  cried  the  miller,  shaking  his  head. 

Richard  Pritchard  shook  his  head  also. 

"  I  found  myself  saying,  '  How  can  the  playhouse 
be  a  place  of  evil  when  my  good  young  ladies,  who 
are  all  that  is  virtuous,  find  it  a  pleasure  to  go? ' 

The  miller  shook  his  head  more  doubtfully  than 
before. 

"  I  think  that  you  left  the  service  of  your  young 
ladies  in  good  time,"  muttered  the  miller. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED         33 

"Do  not  dare  to  say  a  word  against  them — 
against  even  Mistress  Alice,  who,  I  allow,  hath  a 
tantrum  now  and  again,  when  the  seamstress  fails 
her  in  time  or  mode,"  said  the  girl.  "  Of  course 
when  I  reflected  that  I  was  but  a  servant,  so  to 
speak,  and  that  my  duty  was  to  obey  my  mistresses, 
I  would  hesitate  no  longer.  Duty  is  a  virtue,  sir, 
so  I  submitted  without  a  complaint." 

"Ay,  you  would  do  that,"  murmured  the  black- 
smith. 

"  I  said  to  myself " 

"  Oh,"  groaned  the  miller. 

Nelly  ignored  the  groan.  She  went  on  demurely 
from  where  she  was  interrupted. 

"  I  said  to  myself,  '  Should  there  be  evil  in  it 
none  can  hold  me  blameworthy,  since  I  was  only 
obeying  the  order  of  them  that  were  set  over  me/ 
I  went  and  I  was  glad  that  I  went,  for  I  saw  no  evil 
in  word  or  act." 

"  I'm  grieved  to  hear  it,  Nelly,"  said  the 
miller. 

"  What,  you  are  grieved  to  hear  that  I  saw  noth- 
ing of  evil?  Oh,  sir!" 

"  I  mean  that  I  don't  like  to  think  of  a  girl  like 
thee  in  such  a  place,  Nelly.  But  let's  make  the 
best  of  a  bad  matter  and  recount  to  us  what  you 
saw.  It  may  be  that  by  good  fortune  we  may  be 
able  to  find  out  the  evil  of  it,  so  that  you  may  shun 
it  in  future." 

"  Alack,  I  fear  the  chance  will  not  come  to  me  in 
the  future,"  said  Nelly  mournfully. 

"  I  trust  not.  Who  was  the  actor  that  night,  do 
you  mind?  "  asked  the  miller. 

"  Her  name  was  Mistress  Woffington,  and  now  I 
mind  that  one  of  my  ladies  said  that  Mr.  Long  had 
told  her  that  Mistress  Woffington  had  been  to  din- 


34         THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED 

ner  with  the  learned  provost  of  Dublin  College  in 
Ireland — a  parson  and  a  scholar." 

"  Oh,  an  Irishman ! "  was  the  comment  of  the 
miller. 

"  Let  the  girl  be,  miller,"  said  Hal  Holmes. 
"  She's  making  a  brave  fight  in  the  way  of  excus- 
ing herself.  Go  thy  gait,  Nell;  give  us  a  taste  of 
the  quality  of  this  Mistress  Woffington." 

"  Oh,  Hal,  she  is  a  beauty — I  never  thought  that 
the  world  held  such.  The  finest  ladies  of  quality  at 
the  Bath,  though  they  all  copy  her  in  her  mode,  are 
not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to  her.  And  her  clothing 
and  her  modesty  withal.  They  say  she  does  the 
modest  parts  best  of  all." 

"  Ay,  I've  heard  that  the  likes  of  her  are  best  in 
parts  that  have  the  least  in  common  with  them- 
selves," murmured  the  miller. 

"  Oh,  to  see  her  when  she  vowed  that  she  wrould 
be  true  to  her  lover  albeit  that  her  ancient  father, 
stamping  about  with  a  cudgel  and  a  mighty  wMg, 
had  promised  her  to  a  foolish  fellow  in  yellow  silk 
and  an  eyeglass  with  a  long  handle,  and  a  foppish 
way  of  snuff-taking  and  a  cambric  handkerchief! 
La !  how  the  lady  made  a  fool  of  him  under  his  very 
nose.  This  is  Mistress  Woffington :  '  I  protest,  Sir, 
that  I  am  but  a  simple  girl,  country  bred,  that  is 
ready  to  sink  into  the  earth  at  the  approach  of  so 
dangerous  a  gentleman  as  your  lordship.'  And 
she  make  a  little  face  at  her  true  lover,  who  is  get- 
ting very  impatient,  in  blue  and  silver,  at  the  other 
side  of  the  room.  (  Stap  my  vitals,  madam,'  lisps 
the  jessamy,  dangling  his  cane  in  this  fashion — you 
should  see  them  do  it  on  the  Mall—  She  picked 

up  a  light  broom  that  lay  at  the  side  of  the  hearth 
and  made  a  very  pretty  swagger  across  the  room 
with  her  body  bent  and  her  elbow  raised  in  imita- 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED        35 

tion  of  the  exquisite  of  the  period,  quite  unknown 
to  Cornwall.  " '  Egad,  my  dear,  for  a  country 
wench  you  are  not  without  favour.  To  be  sure,  you 
lack  the  mode  of  the  haut  ton,  but  that  will  come  to 
you  in  time  if  you  only  watch  me — that  is,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent.  My  lady,  the  Duchess  says,  "  Charles 
is  inimitable."  Ah,  her  Grace  is  a  sad  flatterer,  'fore 
Gad,  but  she  sometimes  speaks  the  truth.'  '  What, 
Sir,'  says  the  lady,  '  do  you  think  that  in  time  I 
should  catch  some  of  your  grand  air?  I  beseech 
you,  Sir,  have  pity  on  a  poor  simple  maiden ;  do  not 
raise  false  hopes  in  her  breast.'  *  Nay,  pretty 
charmer,  I  do  not  dare  to  affirm  that  you  will  ever 
quite  catch  the  full  style — the  air  of  breeding,  so 
to  speak ;  but  you  may  still  catch '  '  the  small- 
pox, and  faith,  I  think  I  would  prefer  it  to  him/ 
says  Mrs.  Woffington  in  a  whisper,  that  all  in  the 
playhouse  can  hear.  '  Eh,  what's  that?  '  lisps  Mr. 
Floppington.  'Oh,  sir,  I  was  just  saying  that  I 
fear  I  am  sickening  for  the  smallpox,  which  runs 
in  our  family  as  does  the  gout,  only  a  deal  faster.' 
'  Eh,  what,  what !  keep  away  from  me,  girl,  keep 
away,  I  tell  you.'  He  retreats  with  uplifted  hands ; 
she  follows  him,  with  her  own  clasped,  imploring 
him  not  to  reject  her.  He  waves  his  cane  in  front 
of  her  as  if  she  was  a  bull  ready  to  toss  him.  They 
both  speak  together,  they  run  round  the  table,  he 
springs  upon  the  table,  she  tilts  it  over — down  he 
goes  crying,  '  Murder — murder — stop  her — hold 
her  back ! '  He  is  on  his  feet  again,  his  fine  coat 
torn  in  half  at  the  back.  She  catches  at  it  and  one 
whole  side  rips  off  in  her  hand.  He  makes  for  the 
window — finds  it  too  high  to  jump  from — rushes 
to  the  door  and  down  goes  the  lady's  father,  who  is 
in  the  act  of  entering,  with  a  bump,  and  down  goes 
the  fop  with  the  half  coat  in  the  other  direction. 


36         THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

The  lady  sits  drumming  with  her  heels  on  the  floor 
between  them  in  a  shrieking  faint — thus !  " 

She  flung  herself  into  a  chair  and  her  shrieks 
sounded  shrill  above  the  laughter  of  the  others. 

Suddenly  the  laughter  came  to  an  abrupt  end,  as 
though  it  were  cut  in  twain  with  a  sharp  knife. 
The  girl  continued  for  a  few  seconds  shrieking  and 
rapping  her  heels  on  the  floor,  her  head  thrown 
back;  then  she  clearly  became  aware  of  the  fact 
that  something  unusual  had  occurred.  She  looked 
up  in  surprise  at  the  men  on  the  settee,  followed  the 
direction  of  their  eyes,  and  saw  standing  at  the 
porch  door  a  man  of  medium  stature,  wearing  a 
long  riding  cloak  and  carrying  a  book  in  one  hand. 
The  doorway  framed  him.  The  dimness  of  the 
shadowy  eventide  made  a  background  for  his  head, 
the  candle  which  Susan  had  lighted  in  the  room 
shone  upon  his  face,  revealing  the  thin,  refined  fea- 
tures of  a  man  who  was  no  longer  young.  His 
face  was  sweetness  made  visible — eyes  that  looked 
in  brotherly  trustfulness  into  the  eyes  of  others,  and 
that,  consequently,  drew  trust  from  others — illim- 
itable trust. 

The  girl  stared  at  the  stranger  who  had  appeared 
in  the  doorway  with  such  suddenness ;  and  she  saw 
what  manner  of  man  he  was.  There  was  an  expres- 
sion of  mild  surprise  on  his  face  while  he  looked  at 
her,  the  central  figure  in  the  room;  but  she  saw 
that  there  was  a  gentle  smile  about  his  eyes. 

"  I  hope  that  I  am  not  an  intruder  upon  your 
gaiety,"  said  the  stranger.  "  I  knocked  twice  at  the 
door,  and  then,  hearing  the  shrieks  of  distress,  I 
ventured  to  enter.  I  hoped  to  be  of  some  assist- 
ance— shrieks  mixed  with  laughter — well,  I  have 
stopped  both." 

The  miller  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         37 

"  Foolery,  sir,  girl's  foolery  all !  "  he  said,  going 
towards  the  stranger.  "  Pray,  enter,  if  you  can  be 
persuaded  that  you  are  not  entering  a  Bedlam 
mad-house." 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  the  newcomer.  "  'Twould  be 
foolish  to  condemn  simply  because  I  do  not  under- 
stand. I  am  a  stranger  to  this  county  of  England ; 
I  have  had  no  chance  of  becoming  familiar  with 
your  pastimes.  Dear  child,  forgive  me  if  I  broke 
in  upon  your  merriment,"  he  added,  turning  to 
Nelly.  "  Good  sir," — he  was  now  facing  the  miller 
— "  I  have  ridden  close  upon  thirty  miles  to-day — 
the  last  four  in  the  want  of  a  shoe ;  my  horse  must 
have. cast  it  in  the  quagmire  between  the  low  hills. 
Yours  was  the  first  light  that  I  saw — I  was  in  hopes 
that  it  came  from  a  blacksmith's  forge." 

The  miller  laughed. 

"  'Tis  better  than  that,  good  sir,"  said  he.  "  The 
truth  is  that  the  smith  of  these  parts  is  a  fellow  not 
to  be  trusted  by  travellers:  his  forge  is  black  to- 
night, unless  his  apprentices  are  better  men  than 
he.  He  is  a  huge  eater  of  salmon  and  divers  dain- 
ties, and  he  will  drink  as  much  as  a  mugful  of 
cider  before  the  night  is  past." 

"  But  he  is  a  fellow  that  is  ready  to  sacrifice  a 
cut  of  salmon  and  a  gallon  of  cider  to  earn  a  six- 
pence for  a  shoe,  sir,"  said  Hal  Holmes,  rising  from 
the  settee  and  giving  himself  a  shake.  "  In  short, 
sir,  I  be  Holmes,  the  smith,  wrhose  lewd  character 
has  been  notified  to  your  honour,  and  if  you  trust 
me  with  your  nag,  I'll  promise  you  to  fit  a  shoe  on 
him  within  the  half-hour." 

The  stranger  looked  from  the  smith  to  the  miller, 
and  back  again  to  the  smith,  and  his  smile  broad- 
ened. 

"  Good  neighbours  both,  I  can  see,"  he  said.     "  I 


38        THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

thank  you,  smith.  How  far  is  it  to  Porthawn, 
pray,  and  what  may  this  placed  be  called?  " 

Before  he  could  be  answered  the  door  opened  and 
Jake  Pullsford  entered  the  room.  The  sound  of 
his  entrance  caused  the  stranger  to  turn  his  head. 
Jake  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"  Mr.  Wesley ! "  he  said  in  a  whisper  that  had 
something  of  awe  in  its  tone.  "  Mr.  Wesley !  How 
is  this  possible?  I  have  spent  the  afternoon  talk- 
ing of  you,  sir." 

At  the  sound  of  the  name  the  miller  glanced 
meaningly  at  the  smith.  They  were  plainly  sur- 
prised. 

"  Well,  my  brother,"  said  Mr.  Wesley,  "  I  ask 
nothing  better  than  to  give  you  the  chance  of  talk- 
ing to  me  for  the  next  hour.  I  remember  you  well. 
You  are  Jake  Pullsford,  who  came  to  see  me  a 
month  ago  at  Bristol.  You  have  been  much  in  my 
thoughts — in  my  prayers." 


CHAPTER    IV 

JAKE  was  so  excited  at  finding  himself  by  a  curi- 
ous accident  once  more  face  to  face  with  the  man 
who,  as  he  had  happily  confessed  to  his  friends,  had 
produced  so  great  an  impression  upon  him  as  to 
change  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  that  he  began 
to  talk  to  him  in  his  usual  rapid  way,  as  though 
Mr,  Wesley  and  himself  were  the  only  persons  in 
the  room. 

The  miller  remained  on  his  feet.  The  black- 
smith was  also  on  his  feet.  He  had  assumed  a 
professional  air.  After  all,  he  was  likely  to  be  the 
most  important  person  present.  The  girl  in  the 
chair  remained  with  her  hands  folded  on  her  lap. 
She  had  the  aspect  of  a  schoolgirl  who  has  broken 
out  of  bounds  and  awaits  an  interview  with  the 
schoolmistress.  She  had  heard  during  her  visit  to 
Bath  of  this  Mr.  Wesley  and  his  views — at  least 
such  views  as  were  attributed  to  him  by  the  fashion- 
able folk  who  assembled  to  have  their  gossip  and 
intrigue  flavoured  by  the  sulphur  of  the  waters.  He 
was  not  so  easy-going  as  the  clergymen  at  Bath. 
She  could  not  doubt  that  he  would  esteem  it  his 
duty  to  lecture  her  on  her  levity.  It  was  known 
that  he  abhorred  playgoing.  He  was  naturally 
abhorred  by  the  players.  They  had  the  best  of 
reasons:  when  he  was  preaching  in  any  town  that 
had  a  theatre,  the  players  remained  with  empty 
pockets. 

The  appearance  of  Mrs.  Pendelly  announcing 
that  supper  was  ready  was  a  great  relief  to  her. 

39 


40         THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED 

She  jumped  up  with  alacrity.  Jake  Pullsford  came 
back  to  earth.  He  was  breathing  hard.  The 
visitor  had  signified  his  intention  of  resuming  his 
journey,  if  his  horse  could  be  shod.  Jake  was  en- 
treating him  to  pass  the  night  at  his  house,  only  a 
mile  up  the  valley. 

The  miller  was  beginning  to  feel  awkward.  He 
was  hospitably  inclined,  but  he  was  not  presumptu- 
ous. The  blacksmith  was  fast  losing  his  profes- 
sional bearing;  a  sniff  of  the  salmon  steaks  had 
come  through  the  open  door. 

It  was  the  visitor  whose  tact  made  the  situation 
easy  for  everyone. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  to  the  miller,  "  I  have  arrived  here 
so  opportunely  for  myself  that  I  will  not  even  go 
through  the  pretence  of  offering  to  go  to  the  way- 
side inn,  which  our  good  friend  Jake  Pullsford  tells 
me  is  some  miles  away.  I  know  that  I  can  throw 
myself  on  your  hospitality  and  that  you  would  feel 
affronted  if  I  hurried  on.  I  have  no  mind  to  do  so 
— to  be  more  exact,  I  should  say  no  stomach." 

"  Sir,  if  your  reverence  will  honour  my  house  I 
can  promise  you  a  wholesome  victual,"  said  the 
miller.  "  Even  if  you  was  not  a  friend  o'  my  friend 
Jake  here,  who  might,  I  think,  have  named 
my  name  in  your  ear,  you  would  still  be  wel- 
come." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  said  Wesley,  offering  the  miller 
his  hand.  "  I  thank  you  on  behalf  of  myself  and 
my  good  partner  whose  bridle  I  hung  over  your 
ring-post.  A  feed  of  oats  will  put  new  spirit  in  him 
in  spite  of  the  loss  of  his  shoe." 

"  The  horse  shall  be  seen  to,  Mr.  Wesley.  Susan, 
the  stable  bell,"  said  the  miller,  and  his  daughter 
set  a  bell  jangling  on  the  gable  wall. 

"Again  my  thanks,  good  friend,"  said  Wesley. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         41 

"  May  I  beg  your  leave  to  be  presented  to  my  fellow- 
guests  at  your  table,  sir?  " 

He  shook  hands  with  the  farmer,  the  water-finder 
and  the  smith,  saying  a  word  to  each.  Then  he 
turned  to  where  the  two  young  women  had  been. 

They  had  fled  through  the  open  door,  Nelly  hav- 
ing been  the  one  to  judge  of  the  exact  moment  for 
flight. 

They  appeared  at  the  supper  table,  however,  but 
not  taking  their  seats  until  they  had  waited  upon 
all  the  others  of  the  party.  That  was  the  patriar- 
chal custom  of  the  time.  Nelly  Polwhele  only 
wished  that  the  severe  discipline  of  a  side  table  for 
the  serving  girls  had  been  in  force  at  the  Mill.  Ke- 
mote  from  the  long  oak  table  on  which  generations 
of  her  family  had  dined,  she  might  have  had  a 
pleasant  chat  with  her  friend  Susan,  and  then  steal 
off,  evading  the  lecture  which  she  felt  was  impend- 
ing from  the  strict  Mr.  Wesley.  As  it  was,  the 
most  she  could  do  for  herself  was  to  choose  an  un- 
obtrusive place  at  the  further  end  from  the  clergy- 
man. She  hoped  that  the  excellence  of  the  salmon 
which  she  had  carried  through  the  valley  of  the 
Lana  would  induce  him  to  refrain  from  asking  any 
questions  in  regard  to  the  game  that  was  being 
played  at  the  moment  of  his  entrance. 

But  Mr.  Wesley  was  vigilant.  He  espied  her  be- 
fore he  had  finished  his  salmon,  and  had  expressed 
his  thanks  to  her  for  having  burdened  herself  with 
it.  It  was  his  thirst  for  information  of  all  sorts 
that  had  caused  him  to  enquire  how  it  was  possible 
to  have  for  supper  a  fish  that  must  have  been  swim- 
ming in  the  sea,  or  at  least  in  a  salmon  river,  which 
the  Lana  was  not,  a  few  hours  before.  Was  not 
Porthawn  the  nearest  fishing  village,  and  it  was 
six  miles  away?  Then  it  was  that  Mrs.  Pendelly 


42         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

had  told  him  of  Nelly's  journey  on  foot  bearing 
her  father's  gift  to  his  friend  the  miller. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  word  or  two  with  you, 
my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Wesley  when  he  had  thanked 
her.  "  I  wish  to  learn  something  of  the  people  of 
'Porthawn.  I  am  on  my  way  thither  to  preach,  and 
I  like  to  learn  as  much  as  is  possible  of  the  people 
who,  I  hope,  will  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  them." 

Nelly  blushed  and  tried  to  say  that  she  was 
afraid  she  could  tell  him  nothing  that  he  could  not 
learn  from  any  other  source — that  was  what  was  on 
her  mind — but  somehow  her  voice  failed  her.  She 
murmured  something;  became  incoherent,  and  then 
ate  her  salmon  at  a  furious  rate. 

The  miller,  although  he  had  felt  bound  to  offer 
hospitality  to  the  stranger  who  had  appeared  at  his 
door,  knew  that  his  other  guests — with  the  excep- 
tion, it  might  be,  of  Jake  Pullsford — would  feel,  as 
he  himself  did,  that  the  presence  of  this  austere 
clergyman  would  interfere  with  their  good  fellow- 
ship at  supper  and  afterwards.  He  and  his  asso- 
ciates knew  one  another  with  an  intimacy  that  had 
been  maturing  for  thirty  years,  and  the  sudden 
coming  of  a  stranger  among  them  could  not  but 
cause  a  certain  reserve  in  the  natural  freedom  of 
their  intercourse. 

The  miller  had  a  constant  fear  that  this  Mr.  Wes- 
ley would  in  the  course  of  the  evening  say  some- 
thing bitter  about  the  parsons  who  hunted  and  bred 
game-cocks  and  fought  them,  laying  money  on  their 
heads — on  parsons  who  lived  away  from  their  par- 
ishes, allowing  indifferent  curates  to  conduct  the 
services  of  the  church — of  parsons  who  boasted  of 
being  able  to  drink  the  Squires  under  the  table. 
The  miller  had  no  confidence  in  his  power  of  keep- 
ing silent  when  he  felt  that  the  parson  with  whom. 


43 

he  was  on  the  easiest  of  terms  and  for  whose  game- 
cocks he  prepared  a  special  mixture  of  stiffening 
grain  food  was  being  attacked  by  a  stranger,  so  he 
rather  regretted  that  his  duty  compelled  him  to  in- 
vite Mr.  Wesley,  of  whom  he,  in  common  with  thou- 
sands of  the  people  of  the  West  country,  had  heard 
a  great  deal,  to  supper  on  this  particular  evening. 

But  in  the  course  of  the  meal  he  began  to  think 
that  he  wrould  have  no  reason  to  put  any  restraint 
upon  himself.  He  soon  became  aware  of  the  fact 
that  this  Keverend  John  Wesley  was  not  altogether 
the  austere  controversialist  which  rumour,  becom- 
ing more  and  more  exaggerated  as  it  travelled 
West,  made  him  out  to  be.  Before  supper  was  over 
he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Parson  Kodney 
as  a  companion  could  not  hold  a  candle  to  this 
Mr.  Wesley. 

The  compliment  in  respect  of  the  salmon  had 
pleased  both  the  miller  and  his  wife,  even  though 
it  had  made  Nell  blush ;  and  then  a  bantering  word 
or  two  was  said  to  Hal  Holmes  and  his  fine  taste 
for  salmon,  and  forthwith  Mr.  Wesley  was  giving 
an  animated  account  of  how  he  had  seen  the  In- 
dians in  Georgia  spearing  for  salmon  on  one  of  the 
rivers.  This  power  of  bringing  a  wide  scene  before 
one's  eyes  in  a  moment  by  the  use  of  an  illumi- 
nating word  or  two  was  something  quite  new  to  the 
miller  and  his  friends;  but  it  was  the  special  gift 
of  his  latest  guest.  With  thin  uplifted  forefinger — 
it  had  the  aspect  as  well  as  the  power  of  a  wizard's 
wand — he  seemed  to  draw  the  whole  picture  in  the 
air  before  the  eyes  of  all  at  the  table — the  roar  of 
the  rapids  whose  name  with  its  Indian  inflections 
was  in  itself  a  romance — the  steathily  moving  red 
men  with  their  tomahawks  and  arrows  and  long 
spears — the  enormous  backwoods — one  of  them 


44         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

alone  half  the  size  of  England  and  Wales — the 
strange  notes  of  the  bird — whip-poor-will,  the  set- 
tlers called  it — moonlight  over  all — moonlight  that 
was  like  a  thin  white  sheet  let  down  from  heaven 
to  cover  the  earth;  and  where  this  silver  wonder 
showed  the  white  billows  of  foam  churned  up  by 
the  swirl  of  the  mad  river,  there  was  the  gleam  of 
torches — from  a  distance  they  looked  like  the  fierce 
red  eyes  of  the  wild  beasts  of  the  backwood;  but 
coming  close  one  could  see  deep  down  at  the  foot 
of  the  rapids  the  flash  of  a  blood-red  scimitar — the 
quick  reflection  in  the  passionate  surface  of  the 
water  of  the  red  flare  that  waved  among  the  rocks. 
Then  there  was  a  sudden  splash  and  a  flash — an- 
other scimitar — this  time  of  silver  scattering  dia- 
monds through  the  moonlight — another  flash  like 
a  thin  beam  of  light — the  fish  was  transfixed  in 
mid-air  by  the  Indian  spear!  .  .  . 

They  saw  it  all.  The  scene  was  brought  before 
their  eyes.  They  sat  breathless  around  the  supper 
table.  And  yet  the  man  who  had  this  magic  of 
voice  and  eye  had  never  once  raised  that  voice  of 
his — had  never  once  made  a  gesture  except  by  the 
uplifting  of  his  finger. 

"  Fishing — that  is  fishing !  "  said  Hal  Holmes. 
"  I  should  like " 

The  finger  was  upraised  in  front  of  him. 

"  You  must  not  so  much  as  think  of  it,  my  friend ! 
It  would  be  called  poaching  on  our  rivers  here," 
said  Mr.  Wesley  with  a  smile. 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  live  in  the  land  where  the 
fish  of  the  rivers,  the  deer  of  the  forests,  the  birds 
of  the  air  are  free,  as  it  was  intended  they  should 
be — free  to  all  men  who  had  skill  and  craft — I  have 
heard  of  the  trappers,"  said  Hal.  "  It  seems  no 
sort  of  life  for  a  wholesome  man  to  live — pulling 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         45 

the  string  of  a  bellows,  hammering  iron  into  shoes 
for  plough-horses! — no  life  whatsoever." 

Wesley  smiled. 

"  Ah,  if  you  but  knew  aught  of  the  terror  of  the 
backwoods,"  said  he.  "  If  you  but  knew  of  it — one 
vast  terror — monstrous — incredible.  A  terror  by 
day  and  by  night.  I  was  used  to  stand  on  one  of 
the  hills  hard  by  our  little  settlement,  and  look  out 
upon  the  woods  whose  skirts  I  could  see  in  the  far 
distance,  and  think  of  their  immensity  and  their 
mystery.  Hundreds  of  miles  you  might  travel 
through  those  trackless  forests  until  the  hundreds 
grew  into  thousands — at  last  you  would  come  upon 
the  prairie — hundred  and  hundreds  of  miles  of  sav- 
age country — a  mighty  ocean  rolling  on  to  the  foot 
of  the  Kocky  Mountains!  Between  the  backwoods 
and  the  mountains  roll  the  Misissippi  Kiver — the 
Ohio,  the  Potomac.  Would  you  know  what  the 
Mississippi  is  like?  Take  the  Thames  and  the  Sev- 
ern and  the  Wye  and  the  Tyne  and  the  Humber — 
let  them  roll  their  combined  volume  down  the  one 
river  bed ;  the  result  would  be  no  more  than  an  in- 
significant tributary  of  the  Mother  of  Waters — the 
meaning  of  the  name  Mississippi." 

There  was  more  breathlessness.  When  Hal 
Holmes  broke  the  silence  everyone  was  startled — 
everyone  stared  at  him. 

"  Grand !  grand !  "  he  said  in  a  whisper.  "  And 
your  eyes  beheld  that  wonder  of  waters,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Wesley  held  up  both  his  hands. 

"  I — I — behold  it?  "  he  cried.  "  Why,  there  is  no 
one  in  England  whose  eyes  have  looked  upon  that 
great  river.  Had  I  set  out  to  find  it  I  should  have 
had  to  travel  for  a  whole  year  before  reaching  it — 
a  year,  even  if  the  forests  had  opened  their  arms  to 
receire  me,  and  the  prairie  had  offered  me  a  path, 


46         THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

I  spoke  with  an  Indian  who  had  seen  it,  and  I 
spoke  with  the  widows  of  two  men  who  had  gone 
in  search  for  it.  Four  years  had  passed  without 
tidings  of  those  men,  and  then  one  of  the  Iroquois 
tribe  found  a  tattered  hat  that  had  belonged  to  one 
of  them,  on  the  borders  of  the  backwoods,  not  a  hun- 
dred miles  from  his  starting  place.  Of  the  other 
nothing  has  yet  been  forthcoming.  I  tell  you, 
friends,  that  I  was  used  to  let  my  eyes  wander 
across  the  plain  until  they  saw  that  forest,  and  they 
never  saw  it  without  forcing  me  to  look  upon  it  as 
a  vast,  monstrous  thing — but  a  living  creature — 
one  of  those  fabled  dragons  that  were  said  to  lie  in 
wait  to  devour  poor  wretches  that  drew  nigh  to  it. 
Nay,  when  I  looked  upon  it  I  recalled  the  very 
striking  lines  in  John  Milton's  fine  epic  of  *  Para- 
dise Lost ' : 

"  *  With  head  uplift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 
That  sparkling  blazed ;  his  other  parts  besides 
Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large, 
Lay  floating  many  a  rood, — ' 

One  must  needs  be  a  dweller  among  the  adven- 
turers in  America  in  order  to  understand  in  its 
fulness  how  terrible  a  monster  those  backwoods 
are  thought  to  be.  There  it  stretched,  that  awful 
mass — that  monstrous  mother  of  that  venomous 
brood — the  huge  snakes  that  lurk  in  the  under- 
growth, the  fierce  lynx,  the  terrible  panther,  the 
wolf  and  the  wildcat.  I  have  heard,  too,  of  a  cer- 
tain dragon  and  the  vampire — a  huge  bat  that 
fans  a  poor  wretch  asleep  by  the  gentle  winnowing 
of  its  leather  wings  only  to  drain  his  life's  blood. 
These  are  but  a  few  of  the  brood  of  the  backwoods. 
Who  can  name  them  all?  The  poisonous  plants 
that  shoot  out  seeds  with  the  noise  of  the  discharge 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         47 

of  a  musket,  the  swamps  made  up  of  the  decay  of  a 
thousand  years — breathing  fevers  and  agues — the 
spectre  of  starvation  lurks  there  unless  you  have 
weapons  and  the  skill  to  use  them — fire — they  told 
me  of  the  prairie  fires — a  blast  of  flame  five  miles 
broad — sometimes  twenty  miles  broad — rushing 
along  driving  before  it  beasts  and  birds  until  they 
drop  in  sheer  exhaustion  and  become  cinders  in  a 
minute — these  are  some  of  the  terrors  that  dwell  in 
the  backwoods,  but  worst  of  all — most  fierce — inex- 
orable, is  the  Red  Indian.  Tongue  of  man  cannot 
tell  the  story  of  their  treachery — their  torturings. 
Our  settlers  do  not  fear  to  face  the  beasts  of  the 
backwoods — the  rattlesnakes — the  pestilence  of  the 
swamps — the  most  cruel  of  these  is  more  merciful 
than  the  Indian." 

They  listened  as  children  listen  to  a  fairy  tale, 
and  they  knew  that  they  were  hearing  the  truth. 
There  was  not  one  of  them  that  had  not  heard  some- 
thing of  the  story  of  the  founding  of  the  settlement 
along  the  coast  of  the  new  Continent,  from  the  Bay 
Colonies  and  Plymouth  Eock  in  the  North  to  Caro- 
lina in  the  South.  The  spirit  of  adventure  which 
had  given  Drake  and  Raleigh  their  crews  from  the 
men  of  the  West  country  gave  no  signs  of  dying 
out  among  their  descendants.  They  listened  and 
were  held  in  thrall  while  this  man,  who  had  come 
among  them  with  something  of  the  reputation  of 
a  pioneer — a  man  boldly  striking  out  a  new  track 
for  himself,  told  them  of  the  perils  faced  by  their 
countrymen  on  the  other  side  of  that  sea  which 
almost  rolled  to  their  very  doors.  He  carried  them 
away  with  him.  They  breathed  with  him  the  per- 
fume of  the  backwoods  and  became  imbued  with 
the  spirit  of  mystery  pervading  them.  He  carried 
them  away  simply  because  he  himself  was  carried 


48         THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED 

away.  He  felt  all  that  he  spoke  about;  this  was 
the  secret  of  his  power.  He  could  not  have  made 
them  feel  strongly  unless  by  feeling  strongly  him- 
self. 

But  his  aim  was  not  limited  to  his  desire  to 
arouse  their  interest  in  the  romance  of  the  back- 
woods. He  spoke  of  the  troubles  of  the  young  set- 
tlement to  which  he  had  gone  out,  of  the  bravery  of 
the  settlers,  men  and  women — of  the  steadfast  hope 
which  animated  them  in  facing  their  anxieties — 
their  dangers.  What  was  the  power  that  sustained 
them?  In  one  word,  it  was  faith. 

Without  the  least  suggestion  of  preaching,  he 
talked  to  them  of  Faith.  He  talked  as  if  it  was  not 
merely  a  sentiment — a  cold  doctrine  to  be  discussed 
by  the  aid  of  logic — nay,  but  as  a  real  Power — a 
Power  that  could  move  mountains.  Such  as  had 
it  had  the  greatest  gift  that  Heaven  offered  to  man- 
kind. It  was  a  gift  that  was  offered  freely — all 
could  have  it,  if  they  so  willed;  and  this  being  so, 
how  great  would  be  the  condemnation  of  those  who 
refused  to  accept  it! 

And  the  people  who  had  eagerly  drunk  in  all  that 
he  had  to  say  of  the  mystery  of  the  backwoods 
were  even  more  interested  when  he  talked  of  this 
other  mystery.  There  had  been  no  dividing  line  in 
his  subject;  the  Faith  of  which  he  was  now  speak- 
ing with  all  the  eloquence  of  simple  language  that 
fell  like  soft  music  on  their  ears,  was  a  natural 
part — the  most  actual  part  of  his  story  of  the  great 
half-known  West. 

They  listened  to  him  while  he  discoursed  for  that 
marvellous  half-hour,  and  the  prayer  that  followed 
seemed  also  a  part — the  suitable  closing  part  of 
that  story  of  trial  and  trouble  and  danger  rendered 
impotent  by  Faith.  Surely,  when  such  a  gift  could 


49 

be  had  for  the  asking,  they  should  ask  for  it.  He 
prayed  that  the  hearts  of  all  who  were  kneeling 
might  be  opened  to  receive  that  saving  grace  of 
Faith. 

"  Hal,  my  friend,"  said  the  miller,  when  they 
stood  together  at  the  entrance  to  the  lane,  having 
seen  Mr.  Wesley  drive  off  with  Jake.  "  Hal,  for 
the  first  time  these  sixteen  years  I  have  seen  thee 
rise  from  thy  supper  without  searching  about  for 
thy  pipe ! " 

"  My  pipe?  List,  old  friend,  while  I  tell  thee 
that  to  pass  another  such  evening  I  would  break 
my  pipe  into  a  hundred  pieces  and  never  draw  a 
whiff  of  'bacca  between  my  teeth,"  said  Hal. 
"  Moreover,  a  word  in  thy  ear :  I  would  not  have  it 
made  public;  I'll  smoke  no  more  'bacca  that  comes 
to  me  by  a  back  way.  I  believe  that  why  I  didn't 
smoke  this  evening  was  by  reason  of  the  feeling 
that  was  in  me  that  'twould  be  a  solemn  sin  for  me 
to  let  him  have  even  a  sniff  of  'bacca  that  had  been 
run." 

The  miller  laughed. 

"  Why,  Hal,  he  did  not  preach  to  us  to  give  the 
Preventive  men  their  due,"  he  said. 

"  No,  no.  If  he  had  I  might  ha'  been  the  less 
disposed  to  do  the  right  thing.  But  now — well,  no 
more  smuggled  'bacca  for  me." 

"  Good — good — but  wherefore  this  honest  re- 
solve, Hal  Holmes?" 

"  I  know  not.  Only  I  seem  somehow  to  look  at 
some  things  in  a  new  light." 

"  And  that  light  will  not  let  your  tinder  be  fired 
over  a  pipe  o'  'bacca  that  has  paid  no  duty?  That's 
right  enough,  but  what  I  need  to  learn  from  you  ia 
the  reason  of  all  this." 

"  Ah,  there  you  have  me,  friend.    I  can  give  yon 


50         THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

no  reason  for  it;  only  the  notion  came  over  me 
quite  sudden  like,  that  for  ten  year  I  had  been 
doing  what  I  should  ha'  turned  from,  and  I  made 
the  resolve  now  to  turn  now  before  it  was  too  late. 
That's  all,  and  so,  good-night  to  you,  Mat,  and 
God  bless  you.  I  be  to  get  that  shoe  on  before  he 
starts  from  Jake's  house  i'  the  morn,  and  he  said 
he  would  start  betimes." 

The  miller  laughed  again,  but  very  gently,  and 
held  out  his  hand  to  the  other  without  a  word.  It 
was  not  until  the  blacksmith  had  disappeared 
down  the  lane  that  his  friend  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"  It  beats  me  clean.  There  must  be  a  sort  of 
magic  in  the  man's  tongue  that  it  works  those  won- 
ders. All  the  time  that  he  was  telling  us  his  story 
o'  the  woods  I  was  making  up  my  mind  to  be  a 
better  man — to  have  more  charity  at  heart  for  my 
fellows — to  be  easier  on  such  as  cannot  pay  all  that 
they  have  promised  to  pay.  And  now  here's  Hal 
that  confesses  to  the  same,  albeit  he  has  never  gone 
further  out  of  the  straight  track  than  to  puff  a 
pipe  that  has  paid  nothing  to  King  George's  purse. 
And  the  man  gave  no  preacher's  admonition  to  us, 
but  only  talked  o'  the  forest  and  such-like  wild 
things.  .  .  .  Now,  how  did  he  manage  to  bring 
Faith  into  such  a  simple  discourse?  .  .  .  Oh, 
'tis  his  tongue  that  has  the  magic  in  it!  Magic,  I 
say;  for  how  did  it  come  that  when  he  spoke  I 
found  myself  gazing  like  a  child  at  a  picture — a 
solid,  bright  picture  o'  woods  and  things?  .  .  .  Oh, 
'tis  true  magic,  this — true ! " 


CHAPTER  V 

"  OH,  that  a  man  could  speak  to  men  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Spring!  "  cried  Mr.  Wesley,  when  his 
horse  stopped  unbidden  and  unchidden  and  looked 
over  the  curved  green  roof  of  the  hedge  across  the 
broad  green  pasturage  beyond.  "  Oh,  that  my  lips 
could  speak  that  language  which  every  ear  can 
understand  and  every  heart  feel!  What  shall  it 
profit  a  man  to  understand  if  he  does  not  feel — 
feel — feel?  The  man  who  understands  is  the  one 
who  holds  in  his  hand  the  doctor's  prescription. 
The  man  who  feels  is  the  one  who  grasps  the  heal- 
ing herbs ;  and  'tis  the  Spring  that  yields  these  for 
all  to  gather  who  will." 

And  then,  automatically  he  took  his  feet  out  of 
the  stirrups  for  greater  ease,  and  his  eyes  gazed 
across  the  meadow-land  which  sloped  gently  up- 
ward to  the  woods  where  the  sunbeams  were  snared 
among  the  endless  network  of  the  boughs,  for  the 
season  was  not  advanced  far  enough  to  make  the 
foliage  dense;  the  leaves  were  still  thin  and  trans- 
parent— shavings  of  translucent  emerald — a  shade 
without  being  shadowy. 

Everything  that  he  saw  was  a  symbol  to  him. 
He  looked  straight  into  the  face  of  Nature  herself 
and  saw  in  each  of  its  features  something  of  the 
Great  Message  to  man  with  which  his  own  heart 
was  filled  to  overflowing.  He  was  a  poet  whose 
imagination  saw  beneath  the  surface  of  everything. 
He  was  a  physician  who  could  put  his  finger  upon 
the  pulse  of  Nature  and  feel  from  its  faintest  flut- 

51 


52         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

ter  the  mighty  heart  which  throbbed  through  the 
whole  creation. 

What  man  was  there  that  failed  to  understand 
the  message  of  Nature  as  he  understood  it?  He 
could  not  believe  that  any  should  be  so  dense  as  to 
misinterpret  it.  It  was  not  a  book  written  in  a 
strange  tongue;  it  was  a  book  made  up  of  an  infi- 
nite number  of  pictures,  full  of  colour  that  any 
child  could  appreciate,  even  though  it  had  never 
learned  to  read.  There  was  the  meadow  beyond 
the  hedgerow.  It  was  full  of  herbs,  bitter  as  well 
as  sweet.  Could  anyone  doubt  that  these  were  the 
symbols  of  the  Truth;  herbs  for  the  healing  of  the 
nations,  and  if  some  of  them  were  bitter  to  the 
taste,  were  their  curative  properties  the  less  on  this 
account?  Nay,  everyone  knew  that  the  bitterest 
herbs  wrere  oftentimes  the  most  healing.  What  a 
symbol  of  the  Truth !  It  was  not  the  dulcet  truths 
that  were  purifying  to  the  soul  of  man,  but  the 
harsh  and  unpalatable. 

"  God  do  so  to  me  and  more  also  if  ever  I  should 
become  an  unfaithful  physician  and  offer  to  the 
poor  souls  of  men  only  those  Truths  that  taste 
sweet  in  their  mouths  and  that  smell  grateful  to 
their  nostrils !  "  he  cried. 

And  he  did  not  forget  himself  in  the  tumult  of 
his  thought  upon  his  message.  He  was  not  the 
physician  who  looked  on  himself  as  standing  in  no 
need  of  healing. 

"  I  have  tasted  of  the  bitter  medicine  myself  and 
know  what  is  its  power.  Oh,  may  I  be  given  grace 
to  welcome  it  again  should  my  soul  stand  in  need 
of  it!" 

A  lark  rose  from  the  grass  of  the  sloping  meadow 
and  began  its  ecstatic  song  as  it  climbed  its  aerie 
ladder  upward  to  the  pure  blue.  He  listened  to  the 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         53 

quivering  notes — a  bubbling  spring  of  melody  bab- 
bling and  wimpling  and  gurgling  and  flitting  and 
fluttering  as  it  fell  through  the  sweet  morning  air. 

"  Oh,  marvel  of  liquid  melody ! "  cried  the  man, 
letting  his  eyes  soar  with  the  soaring  bird.  "  What 
is  the  message  that  is  thine !  What  is  that  message 
which  fills  thy  heart  with  joy  and  sends  thee  soar- 
ing out  of  the  sight  of  man,  enraptured  to  the  sky? 
Is  it  a  message  from  the  sons  of  men  that  thou  bear- 
est  to  the  heavens?  Is  it  a  message  from  Heaven 
that  thou  sendest  down  to  earth?" 

A  butterfly  fluttered  up  from  beyond  the  hedge, 
carrying  with  it  the  delicate  scent  of  unseen  prim- 
roses. It  hovered  over  the  moss  of  the  bank  for  a 
moment  and  then  allowed  itself  to  be  blown  like  a 
brown  leaf  in  the  breeze  in  a  fantastic  course  to- 
ward the  group  of  harebells  that  made  a  faint  blue 
mist  over  a  yard  of  meadow. 

He  watched  its  flight.  The  butterfly  had  once 
been  taken  as  an  emblem  of  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  he  remembered.  Was  it  right  that  it  should 
be  thought  such  a  symbol,  he  wondered.  In  latter 
years  it  was  looked  on  as  an  example  of  all  that  is 
fickle  and  frivolous.  Was  it  possible  that  the  an- 
cients saw  more  deeply  into  the  heart  of  things — 
more  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  these  forms  of 
Nature? 

"  Who  can  say  what  wise  purpose  of  the  Creator 
that  gaudy  insect  may  fulfil  in  the  course  of  its 
brief  existence?  "  said  he.  "  We  know  that  nothing 
had  been  made  in  vain.  It  may  be  that  it  flutters 
from  flower  to  flower  under  no  impulse  of  its  own, 
but  guided  by  the  Master  of  Nature,  whose  great 
design  would  not  be  complete  without  its  exist- 
ence. That  which  we  in  our  ignorance  regard  as 
an  emblem  of  all  that  is  vain  and  light  may,  in 


54         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

truth,  be  working  out  one  of  the  gravest  purposes 
of  the  All  Wise." 

He  remained  under  the  influence  of  this  train  of 
thought  for  some  time.  Then  his  horse  gave  a  little 
start  that  brought  back  his  rider  from  the  realm 
into  which  he  had  been  borne  by  his  imagination. 
He  caught  up  the  rein,  slipped  his  feet  into  his  stir- 
rups, and  perceived  that  it  was  the  fluttering  dress 
of  a  girl,  who  had  apparently  sprung  from  the 
primrose  hollow  beyond  the  hedge,  that  had  star- 
tled the  animal.  It  seemed  that  the  girl  herself 
was  also  startled;  she  stood  a  dozen  yards  away, 
with  her  lips  parted,  and  gave  signs  of  flight  a  mo- 
ment before  he  recognised  her  as  one  of  the  girls 
who  had  been  at  the  Mill  the  night  before — the  girl 
who  had  been  the  central  figure  in  the  game  which 
his  entrance  had  interrupted. 

"  Another  butterfly — another  butterfly !  "  he  said 
aloud,  raising  his  hand  to  salute  Nelly  Polwhele, 
who  dropped  him  a  curtsey  with  a  faint  reply  to  his 
"  Good-morning." 

He  pushed  his  horse  closer  to  her,  saying: 

"  A  fair  morning  to  you,  my  child !  You  are  not 
a  slug-a-bed.  Have  you  come  for  the  gathering  of 
mushrooms  or  primroses?  Not  the  latter;  the  bor- 
ders of  the  Mill  stream  must  be  strewn  wTith  them 
to-day." 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  my  home,  sir,"  she  replied. 
"  I  set  out  on  my  return  to  the  village  an  hour  ago. 
I  should  be  back  in  less  than  another — 'tis  scarce 
four  mile  onward." 

"  I  remember  that  you  told  me  you  had  come 
from  Porthawn — my  destination  also.  I  wished  for 
a  chat  with  you,  but  somehow  we  drifted  a  long 
way  from  Porthawn — we  drifted  across  the  Atlan- 
tic and  got  lost  in  the  backwoods  of  America." 


, 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         55 

"  Ah,  no,  sir,  not  lost,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  was  a  poor  guide,"  said  he.  "  I  have  only  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  backwoods,  and  so  could  only  lead 
you  all  a  rood  or  two  beyond  their  fringes  of  maple. 
The  true  guide  is  one  that  hath  been  on  every  for- 
est track  and  can  tell  by  the  tinges  on  the  tree 
trunk  in  what  direction  his  feet  tend.  What  a  pity 
'tis,  my  dear,  that  we  cannot  be  so  guided  through 
this  great  tangled  forest  of  life  that  we  are  travers- 
ing now  on  to  the  place  of  light  that  is  far  beyond — 
a  place  where  there  is  no  darkness — a  shelter  but 
no  shadow!  There,  you  see,  I  begin  to  preach  to 
the  first  person  whom  I  overtake.  That  is  the  way 
of  the  man  who  feels  laid  upon  him  the  command 
to  preach." 

"  It  does  not  sound  like  preaching,  sir,"  said  the 
girl.  "  I  would  not  tire  listening  to  words  like 
that." 

"That  is  how  you  know  preaching  from — wellr 
from  what  is  not  preaching :  you  tire  of  the  one,  not 
of  the  other?  "  said  he,  smiling  down  at  her. 

She  hung  her  head.  Somehow  in  the  presence  of 
this  man  all  her  readiness  of  speech — sharpness  of 
reply — seemed  to  vanish. 

"  I  do  not  say  that  you  have  not  made  a  very 
honest  and  a  very  excellent  attempt  to  convey  ta 
me  what  is  the  impression  of  many  people,"  he 
resumed.  "  But  there  is  a  form  of  preaching  of 
which  you  can  never  grow  weary.  I  have  been  lis- 
tening to  it  since  our  good  friend  Hal  Holmes 
helped  me  to  mount  the  horse  that  he  had  just 
shod." 

"  Preaching,  sir?  "  she  said.  "  There  are  not 
many  preachers  hereabouts.  Parson  Rodney  gives 
us  a  good  ten  minutes  on  Sunday,  but  he  does  not 
trouble  us  on  week-days." 


56         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"  Doth  his  preaching  trouble  you  on  Sunday, 
child?  If  so,  I  think  more  highly  of  your  parson 
than  I  should  be  disposed  to  think,  seeing  that  I 
have  heard  nothing  about  him  save  that  he  is  the 
best  judge  of  a  game-cock  in  Cornwall.  But  the 
sermon  that  makes  a  listener  feel  troubled  in  spirit 
is  wholesome.  Ah,  never  mind  that.  I  tell  you 
that  I  have  been  listening  to  sermons  all  this  lovely 
morning — the  sermon  of  that  eminent  preacher,  the 
sun,  to  the  exhortation  of  the  fields,  the  homily  of 
the  bursting  flowers,  the  psalm  of  the  soaring  lark, 
the  parable  of  the  butterfly.  I  was  thinking  upon 
the  butterfly  when  you  appeared." 

"  You  are  different  from  Parson  Rodney,  if  it 
please  you,  sir." 

"  It  does  please  me,  my  child ;  but,  indeed,  I  am 
sure  that  there  are  worse  parsons  than  those  who 
take  part  in  the  homely  sports  of  their  parish,  rude 
though  some  of  these  sports  may  be.  I  wonder  if 
your  ears  are  open  to  the  speech — the  divine  music 
of  such  a  morn  as  this." 

"  I  love  the  morning,  sir — the  smell  of  the  flow- 
ers and  the  meadows — the  lilt  of  the  birds." 

"  You  have  felt  that  they  bring  gladness  into 
our  life?  I  knew  that  your  child's  heart  would 
respond  to  their  language — they  speak  to  the  heart 
of  such  as  you.  And  for  myself,  my  thought  when 
I  found  myself  drinking  in  of  all  the  sweet  things 
in  earth  and  air  and  sky — drinking  of  that  over- 
flowing chalice  which  the  morning  offered  to  me — 
my  thought — my  yearning  was  for  such  a  voice  as 
that  which  I  heard  come  from  everything  about  me 
•  on  this  Spring  morning.  *  Oh,  that  a  man  might 
: speak  to  men  in  the  language  of  this  morn!'  I 
cried." 

There  was  a  long  pause.    His  eyes  were  looking 


57 

far  away  from  her.  He  seemed  to  forget  that  he 
was  addressing  anyone. 

She,  however,  had  not  taken  her  eyes  off  his  face. 
She  saw  the  light  that  came  into  it  while  he  was 
speaking,  and  she  was  silent.  It  seemed  to  her  to 
speak  just  then  would  have  been  as  unseemly  as 
to  interrupt  at  one's  prayers. 

But  in  another  moment  he  was  looking  at  her. 

"You  surely  are  one  of  the  sweet  and  innocent 
things  of  this  dewy  morn,"  said  he.  "  And  surely 
you  live  as  do  they  to  the  glory  of  God.  Surely  you 
were  meant  to  join  in  creation's  hymn  of  glory  to 
the  Creator !  " 

She  bent  her  head  and  then  shook  it.1 

"  Nay,"  said  he,  "  you  will  not  be  the  sole  crea- 
ture to  remain  dumb  while  the  Creator  is  revealing 
Himself  in  the  reanimation  of  His  world  after  the 
dark  days  of  Winter,  when  the  icy  finger  which 
touched  everything  seemed  to  be  the  finger  of 
Death ! " 

His  voice  had  not  the  inflection  of  a  preacher's. 
She  did  not  feel  as  if  he  were  reading  her  a  homily 
that  needed  no  answer. 

But  what  answer  could  she  make?  She  was,  in- 
deed, so  much  a  part  of  the  things  of  Nature  that, 
like  them,  she  could  only  utter  what  was  in  her 
heart.  And  what  was  in  her  heart  except  a  con- 
sciousness of  her  own  un worthiness? 

"  Ah,  sir,"  she  murmured,  "  only  last  night  had 
I  for  the  first  time  a  sense  of  what  I  should  be." 

His  face  lit  up  again  when  she  spoke.  His  hands 
clasped,  mechanically  as  it  seemed. 

"  I  knew  it,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  turning 
&way  his  head.  "  I  was  assured  of  it.  When  my 
horse  cast  his  shoe  I  felt  that  it  was  no  mischance. 
I  heard  the  voice  of  a  little  child  calling  to  me 


58         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

through  the  night.  No  doubt  crossed  my  mind.  I 
thank  Thee — I  thank  Thee  abundantly,  O  my 
Master !  " 

Then  he  turned  to  Nelly,  saying: 

"  Child,  my  child,  we  are  going  the  same  way. 
Will  you  give  me  permission  to  walk  by  your  side 
for  the  sake  of  company?  " 

"  Nay,  sir,  will  not  you  be  weary  a- walking?  " 
she  said.  "  'Tis  a  good  three  mile  to  the  Port,  and 
the  road  is  rough  when  we  leave  the  valley." 

"  Three  miles  are  not  much,"  said  he,  dismount- 
ing. "  The  distance  will  seem  as  nothing  when  we 
begin  to  talk." 

"  Indeed  that  is  so,  sir,"  said  she.  "  Last  night 
fled  on  wings  while  you  were  telling  us  the  story 
of  the  backwoods." 

"  It  fled  so  fast  that  I  had  no  time  to  fulfil  my 
promise  to  ask  you  about  your  friends  at  Port- 
hawn,"  said  he.  "  That  is  why  I  am  glad  of  the 
opportunity  offered  to  me  this  morning.  I  am  anx- 
ious to  become  acquainted  with  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  people.  Now,  if  I  were  to  meet  one  of 
your  neighbours  to-day  I  should  start  conversation 
by  asking  him  about  you.  But  is  there  any  reason 
why  you  should  not  tell  me  about  yourself?  " 

She  laughed,  as  they  set  out  together,  Mr.  Wes- 
ley looping  his  horse's  bridle  over  his  arm. 

"  There  is  naught  to  be  told  about  myself,  sir ;  I 
am  only  the  daughter  of  a  fisherman  at  Porthawn. 
I  am  the  least  important  person  in  the  world." 

"  'Tis  not  safe,  my  child,  to  assign  relative  de- 
grees of  importance  to  people  whom  we  meet,"  said 
he.  "  The  most  seemingly  insignificant  is  very 
precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Master.  Who  can  say 
that  the  humblest  of  men  or  women  may  not  be 
called  upon  some  day  to  fulfil  a  great  purpose? 


59 

Have  you  read  history?  A  very  little  knowledge 
of  history  will  be  enough  to  bear  out  what  I  say. 
When  the  Master  calls  He  does  not  restrict  Him-' 
self  to  the  important  folk ;  He  says  to  the  humblest, 
(  Follow  Me  and  do  My  work — the  work  for  which 
I  have  chosen  thee.'  God  forbid  that  I  should  look 
on  any  of  God's  creatures  as  of  no  account.  What 
is  in  my  thought  just  now  is  this:  How  does  it 
come  that  you,  who  are,  as  you  have  told  ine,  the 
daughter  of  a  fisherman  in  a  small  village  far  re- 
moved from  any  large  city — how  does  it  come  that 
you  speak  as  a  person  of  education  and  some  refine- 
ment? Should  I  be  right  to  assume  that  all  the 
folk  at  your  village  are  as  you  in  speech  and 
bearing?  " 

The  little  flush  of  vanity  that  came  to  her  face 
when  he  had  put  his  question  to  her  lasted  but  a 
few  seconds. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  have  had  such  advantages — I  do  not  know  if 
you  would  look  on  them  as  advantages,  sir ;  but  the 
truth  is  that  the  Squire's  lady  and  her  daughters 
have  been  kind  to  me.  My  father  did  the  Squire  a 
service  a  long  time  ago.  His  son,  Master  Anthony, 
was  carried  out  to  sea  in  his  pleasure  boat  and 
there  was  a  great  gale.  My  father  was  the  only 
man  who  ventured  forth  at  the  risk  of  his  life  to 
save  the  young  gentleman,  and  he  saved  him.  They 
were  two  days  in  the  channel  in  an  open  boat,  and 
my  father  was  well-nigh  dead  himself  through  ex- 
haustion. But  the  young  squire  was  brought  back 
without  hurt.  The  Squire  and  his  lady  never  for- 
got that  service.  My  father  was  given  money  to 
carry  out  the  plans  that  he  had  long  cherished  of 
making  the  port  the  foremost  one  for  fishing  on 
our  coast,  and  the  ladies  had  me  taught  by  their 


60        THE    LOVE   THAT   PBEVAILED 

own  governess,  so  that  I  was  at  the  Court  well- 
nigh  every  day.  I  know  not  whether  or  not  it  was 
&  real  kindness." 

"  It  was  no  real  kindness  if  you  were  thereby 
made  discontented  with  your  home  and  your 
friends." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Wesley ;  that  is  just  what  came  about. 
I  thought  myself  a  deal  better  than  anyone  in  the 
village — nay,  than  my  own  father  and  mother.  I 
had  a  scorn  of  those  of  my  neighbours  who  were 
ignorant  of  books  and  music  and  the  working  of 
embroidery,  and  other  things  that  I  learned  with 
the  young  ladies.  I  was  unhappy  myself,  and  I 
knew  that  I  made  others  unhappy." 

"  Ah,  such  things  have  happened  before.  But 
you  seemed  on  good  terms  with  the  miller's  family 
and  the  others  who  supped  last  evening  at  the  Mill. 
And  did  not  you  walk  all  the  way  from  your  vil- 
lage carrying  that  heavy  fish  for  their  entertain- 
ment?— our  entertainment,  I  may  say,  for  I  was 
benefited  with  the  others." 

The  girl  turned  her  head  away ;  she  seemed  some- 
what disturbed  in  her  mind.  She  did  not  reply  at 
once,  and  it  was  in  a  low  voice  that  she  said : 

"A  year  ago  I — I — was  brought  to  see  that — 
that — I  cannot  tell  you  exactly  how  it  came  about, 
sjr;  'tis  enough  for  me  to  say  that  something  hap- 
pened that  made  me  feel  I  was  at  heart  no  differ- 
ent from  my  own  folk,  though  I  had  played  the 
organ  at  church  many  times  when  Mr.  Haylings 
was  sick  and  though  the  young  ladies  made  much 
of  me." 

Mr.  Wesley  did  not  smile.  He  was  greatly  inter- 
ested in  the  story  which  the  girl  had  told  to  him. 
Had  she  told  him  only  the  first  part  he  would  have 
been  able  to  supply  the  sequel  out  of  his  own  expe- 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         61 

rience  and  knowledge  of  life.  Here  was  this  girlr 
possessing  the  charms  of  youth  and  vivacity,  indis- 
creetly educated,  as  people  would  say,  "above  her 
station,"  and  without  an  opportunity  of  mingling 
on  equal  terms  with  any  except  her  own  people — 
how  should  she  be  otherwise  than  dissatisfied  with 
her  life?  How  could  she  fail  to  make  herself  dis- 
agreeable to  the  homely,  unambitious  folk  with 
whom  she  was  forced  to  associate? 

He  had  too  much  delicacy  to  ask  her  how  it  was 
that  she  had  been  brought  to  see  the  mistake  that 
she  had  made  in  thinking  slightingly  of  her  own 
kin  who  remained  in  ignorance  of  the  accomplish- 
ments wrhich  she  had  acquired?  He  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  supplying  the  details  which  she  omitted. 
He  could  see  this  poor,  unhappy  girl  being  so  car- 
ried awTay  by  a  sense  of  her  own  superiority  to  her 
natural  surroundings  as  to  presume  upon  the  good 
nature  of  her  patrons,  the  result  being  humiliation 
to  herself. 

"  I  sympathise  with  you  with  all  my  heart,  dear 
child,"  he  said.  "  But  the  lesson  which  you  have 
had  is  the  most  important  in  your  education — the 
most  important  in  the  strengthening  of  your  char- 
acter, making  you  see,  I  doubt  not,  that  the  simple 
virtues  are  worthy  of  being  held  in  far  higher  es- 
teem than  the  mere  graces  of  life.  Your  father 
would  shake  his  head  over  a  boat  that  was  beau- 
tifully painted  and  gilded  from  stem  to  stern. 
Would  he  be  satisfied,  do  you  think,  to  go  to  sea 
in  such  a  craft  on  the  strength  of  its  gold  leaf? 
Would  he  not  first  satisfy  himself  that  the  painted 
timbers  were  made  of  stout  wood?  'Tis  not  the 
paint  or  the  gilding  that  makes  a  trustworthy  boat, 
but  the  timber  that  is  beneath.  So  it  is  not  educa- 
tion nor  graceful  accomplishments  that  are  most, 


62         THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED 

valuable  to  a  man  or  woman,  but  integrity,  stead- 
fastness of  purpose,  content.  These  are  the  vir- 
tues that  tend,  to  happiness.  Above  all,  the  most 
highly  cultivated  man  or  woman  is  he  or  she  that 
has  cultivated  simplicity.  I  thank  you  for  telling 
me  your  story  in  answer  to  my  enquiry.  And  now 
that  you  have  satisfied  my  curiosity  on  this  point, 
it  may  be  that  you  will  go  so  far  as  to  let  me  know 
why  it  was  that  you  were  filling  the  room  in  the 
Mill  with  shrieks  last  evening  when  I  entered." 


CHAPTER    VI 

NELLY  POLWHELE  gave  a  little  jump  when  Mr. 
Wesley  had  spoken.  It  had  come  at  last.  She  had 
done  her  best  to  steal  away  from  the  explanation 
which  she  feared  she  would  have  to  make  to  him. 
But  somehow  she  did  not  now  dread  facing  it  so 
greatly  as  she  had  done  in  the  Mill.  She  had  heard 
that  the  Reverend  Mr.  Wesley  was  severe,  as  well 
as  austere.  She  had  heard  his  Methodism  mocked 
by  the  fashionable  folk  at  Bath,  story  after  story 
being  told  of  his  daring  in  rebuking  the  frivolities 
of  the  day.  She  had  believed  him  to  be  an  unsym- 
pathetic curmudgeon  of  a  man,  whose  mission  it 
was  to  banish  every  joy  from  life. 

But  now  that  she  had  heard  his  voice,  so  full  of 
gentleness — now  that  his  eyes  had  rested  upon  her 
in  kindliness  and  sympathy — now  that  she  had 
heard  him  not  disdain  to  spend  an  hour  telling  her 
and  her  friends  that  romance  of  the  backwoods, 
thrilling  them  by  his  telling  of  it,  her  dread  of 
being  rebuked  by  him  for  her  levity  was  certainly 
a  good  deal  less  than  it  had  been.  Still  she  looked 
uneasily  away  from  him,  and  they  had  taken  a 
good  many  steps  in  silence  together  before  she 
made  an  attempt  to  answer  him.  And  even  then 
she  did  not  look  at  him. 

"  'Twas  a  piece  of  folly,  I  am  afraid,  sir,"  she 
said  in  a  low  tone.  "  At  least  you  may  esteem  it 
folly,  though  it  did  not  fail  to  amuse  the  good 
people  at  the  Mill,"  she  added  in  an  impulse  of 
vanity  not  to  be  resisted. 

63 


64         THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

"  I  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  domestic  game," 
said  he.  "  They  were  all  roaring  with  laughter. 
Had  you  heard,  as  I  did,  from  without,  the  loud 
laughter  of  the  men  and  above  it  the  wild,  shrill 
shrieks,  you  would,  I  am  sure,  have  been  as  amazed 
as  I  was." 

She  laughed  now  quite  without  restraint. 

"  Bedlam — Bedlam — nothing  less  than  Bedlam 
it  must  have  seemed  to  you,  Mr.  Wesley,"  she 
said. 

"  I  will  not  contend  with  you  as  to  the  appropri- 
ateness of  your  description,"  said  he,  smiling,  still 
kindly. 

"  The  truth  is,  sir,  that  I  have  just  returned  from 
paying  my  first  visit  to  the  Bath,"  said  she.  "  'Twas 
the  greatest  event  in  my  simple  life.  I  went  to  act 
as  dresser  to  the  Squire's  young  ladies,  and  they 
were  so  good  as  to  allow  me  to  see  mostly  all  that 
there  was  to  be  seen,  and  to  hear  all  that  there  was 
to  be  heard." 

"  What — all?  That  were  a  perilous  permission 
that  your  young  ladies  gave  to  you." 

"  I  know  not  what  is  meant  by  all,  but  I  heard 
much,  sir;  singers  and  preachers  and  players.  I 
was  taken  to  the  Cave  of  Harmony  for  lovely  music, 
and  to  the  playhouse,  where  I  saw  Mistress  Wof- 
fington  in  one  of  her  merry  parts.  I  was  busy 
telling  of  this  when  you  entered  the  Mill.  I  was 
doing  my  best  to  shriek  like  Mistress  Woffington." 

She  spoke  lightly  and  with  a  certain  assurance, 
as  though  she  were  determined  to  uphold  her  claim 
to  go  whithersoever  she  pleased. 

She  was  in  a  manner  disappointed  that  he  did 
not  at  once  show  himself  to  be  shocked.  But  he 
heard  her  and  remained  silent  himself.  Some  mo- 
ments passed ;  but  still  he  did  not  speak ;  he  waited. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         65 

Of  course  she  began  to  excuse  herself;  he  knew" 
that  she  would  do  so.  The  uneasily  confident  way 
in  which  she  had  talked  of  the  playhouse  had  told 
him  that  she  would  soon  be  accusing  herself  by 
her  excuses  without  the  need  for  him  to  open  hig 
lips. 

"  You  will  understand,  sir,  I  doubt  not,  that  I 
was  but  in  the  position  of  a  servant,  though  my 
ladies  treated  me  graciously;  I  could  not  but  obey 
them  in  all  matters,"  she  said. 

"  Does  your  saying  that  mean  that  you  had  some 
reluctance  in  going  to  the  playhouse?  "  he  asked 
her. 

"  I  was  not  quite — quite — sure,"  she  replied 
slowly.  "  I  had  heard  that  the  playhouse  was  a 
wicked  place." 

"  And  therefore  you  were  interested  in  it — is  that 
so?" 

"  But  I  asked  myself,  i  Would  my  young  ladies 
go  to  the  playhouse — would  the  Squire,  who  surely 
knows  a  good  deal  about  wickedness,  having  lived 
for  so  many  years  in  London — would  the  Squire 
and  his  lady  allow  them  to  go  to  the. playhouse  if 
there  was  anything  evil  in  it?  '  " 

"  And  so  you  went  and  you  were  delighted  with 
the  painted  faces  on  both  sides  of  the  stage,  and 
you  have  remained  unsettled  ever  since,  so  that 
you  must  needs  do  your  best  to  imitate  an  actress 
whose  shamelessness  of  living  is  in  everybody's 
mouth?  I  know  that  you  imitated  this  Wofflng- 
ton  woman  to  your  young  ladies  when  you  returned 
warm  and  excited  from  the  playhouse,  and  they 
laughed  hugely  at  your  skill." 

Nelly  stood  still,  so  startled  was  she  at  the  divi- 
nation of  her  companion. 

"  How    came   you    to    hear    that? "    she    cried. 


66 

"  Were  we  not  alone  in  the  bedroom?  Who  could 
have  told  you  so  much?  " 

"  And  when  you  returned  to  your  home  you  were 
not  many  hours  under  its  roof  before  you  were 
strutting  about  feeling  yourself  to  be  decked  out 
in  the  fine  clothes  which  you  had  seen  that  woman 
wear  in  the  playhouse?  " 

"  You  have  been  talking  to  someone — was  it  Jake 
Pullsford?  But  how  could  he  have  known?  Oh, 
sir;  you  seem  to  have  in  yourself  a  power  equal  to 
that  of  the  water-finder's  wand,  only  surer  by  a 
good  measure." 

"  And  you  saw  no  evil  in  the  playhouse?  "  he 
said  gently. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go  again,  Mr.  Wesley,"  she 
said.  "  But  indeed  I  dare  not  say  that  I  saw  any 
of  the  wickedness  that  I  have  heard  of,  in  the 
theatre." 

"  What,  are  you  not  in  yourself  an  example  of 
the  evil?  "  said  he. 

"  What— I,  sir?  Surely  not,  Mr.  Wesley.  What- 
ever you  may  have  heard  you  could  hear  nothing 
against  me,"  she  cried,  somewhat  indignantly. 

Her  indignation  lent  her  boldness  and  she  turned 
to  him,  saying: 

"  I  affirm,  sir,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  do  so, 
that  I  saw  nothing  of  evil  in  the  playhouse,  and  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  instead  of  spending  my 
days  hidden  away  in  a  lonely  village  far  from  all  the 
pleasures  of  life,  I  would  try  my  fortune  as  an  ac- 
tress. I  believe  that  I  have  some  gift  of  mimicry — 
my  ladies  told  me  so.  Why,  sir,  you  allowed  that 
my  shrieks  frightened  you  outside  the  Mill." 

"  Child,  your  feet  are  on  a  path  perilous,"  said 
he.  "  You  were  indignant  when  I  said  that  you 
were  in  yourself  an  example  of  the  evil  of  going  to 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         67 

the  playhouse.  Every  word  that  you  have  spoken 
since  has  gone  to  prove  the  truth  of  my  assertion. 
Do  you  say  that  the  unsettling  of  your  mind  is  no 
evil  due  to  your  visits  to  the  playhouse — the  unset- 
tling of  your  mind,  the  discontent  at  your  homely 
and  virtuous  surroundings,  the  arousing  of  a  fool- 
ish vanity  in  your  heart  and  the  determination  to 
take  a  step  that  would  mean  inevitable  ruin  to  such 
as  you — ruin  and  the  breaking  of  your  father's 
heart?  " 

He  spoke  calmly,  and  in  his  voice  there  was  more 
than  a  suggestion  of  sorrow. 

She  had  become  pale;  she  made  an  attempt  to 
face  him  and  repel  his  accusations,  but  there  was 
something  in  his  face  that  took  all  the  strength 
out  of  her.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  sobbed  bitterly.  He  watched  her  for  some  mo- 
ments, and  then  he  put  a  soothing  hand  upon  her 
arm. 

"  Nay,  dear  child,  be  not  overcome,"  said  he. 
"  Have  you  not  said  to  me  that  you  have  no  wish 
ever  to  enter  the  playhouse  again?  Let  that  be 
enough.  Be  assured  that  I  will  not  upbraid  you  for 
your  possession  of  that  innocence  which  saved  you 
from  seeing  aught  that  wras  wrong  in  the  play  or 
the  players.  Unto  the  pure  all  things  are  pure. 
Unto  the  innocent  all  things  are  harmless.  You 
were  born  for  the  glory  of  God.  If  you  let  that  be 
your  thought  day  and  night  your  feet  will  be  kept 
in  the  narrow  way." 

She  caught  his  hand  and  held  it  in  both  her  own 
hands. 

"  I  give  you  my  promise,"  she  cried,  her  eyes 
upon  his  face;  they  were  shining  all  the  more 
brightly  through  her  tears. 

"  Nay,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  give  me  any 


68         THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

promise,"  he  said.  "  I  will  have  confidence  in 
your  fidelity  without  any  promise." 

"You  will  have  to  reckon  with  me  first,  you 
robber ! " 

They  both  started  at  the  sound  of  the  voice.  It 
came  from  a  scowling  man  who,  unperceived  by 
them,  had  come  through  a  small  plantation  of  pop- 
lars on  the  slope  at  one  side  of  the  road,  and  now 
leaped  from  the  bank,  high  though  it  was,  and 
stood  confronting  them. 

The  girl  faced  him. 

"  What  do  you  here,  John  Bennet?  "  she  cried. 
"  Have  you  been  playing  the  spy  as  usual?  " 

"  You  are  one  of  them  that  needs  to  be  watched, 
my  girl,"  said  he.  "  You  know  that  I  speak  the 
truth  and  that  is  why  you  feel  it  the  more  bitterly. 
But  rest  sure  that  I  shall  watch  you  and  watch 
you  and  watch  you  while  I  have  eyes  in  my  head." 

He  was  a  lank  man,  who  wore  his  own  red  hair 
tied  in  a  queue.  He  had  eyes  that  certainly  would 
make  anyone  feel  that  the  threat  which  he  had 
uttered  to  the  girl  was  one  that  he  was  well  quali- 
fied to  carry  out;  they  were  small  and  fierce — the 
eyes  of  a  fox  when  its  vigilance  is  overstrained. 

He  kept  these  eyes  fixed  upon  her  for  some  mo- 
ments, and  then  turned  them  with  the  quickness 
of  a  flash  of  light  upon  Wesley. 

"  I  heard  what  she  said  and  I  heard  what  you 
said,  my  gentleman,"  said  he.  "  You  will  have  faith 
in  her  fidelity — the  fidelity  of  Nelly  Polwhele.  I 
know  not  who  you  are  that  wears  a  parson's  bands ; 
but  parson  or  no  parson  I  make  bold  to  tell  you 
that  you  are  a  fool — the  biggest  fool  on  earth  if 
you  have  faith  in  any  promise  made  by  that  young 
woman." 

"  Sir,"  said  Wesley,  "  you  called  me  a  thief  just 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         69 

now.  My  knowledge  of  the  falsehood  of  that  accu- 
sation enables  me  to  disregard  any  slander  that  you 
may  utter  against  this  innocent  girl." 

"  I  called  you  a  thief  once  and  I  shall  call  you 
so  a  second  time,"  cried  the  man.  "  You  have 
stolen  the  love  of  this  girl  from  me — nay,  'tis  no 
use  for  you  to  raise  your  hand  like  that.  I  know 
you  are  ready  to  swear  that  you  said  nothing  ex- 
cept what  a  good  pastor  would  say  to  one  of  his 
flock — swear  it,  swear  it  and  perjure  yourself,  as 
usual — all  of  your  cloth  do  it  when  the  Bishop  lays 
his  hands  upon  their  wigs,  and  they  swear  to  devote 
their  lives  to  the  souls  of  their  parishes  and  then 
hasten  to  their  rectories  to  get  on  their  hunting 
boots — their  hunting  boots  that  are  never  off  their 
legs  save  when  they  are  playing  bowls  or  kneeling 
— kneeling — ay,  in  the  cock-pit." 

"  Silence,  sir !  "  cried  Wesley.  "  Pass  on  your 
way  and  allow  us  to  proceed  on  ours." 

"  I  have  told  your  reverence  some  home  truths; 
and  as  for  yonder  girl,  who  has  doubtless  tricked 
you  as  she  did  me " 

"  Silence,  sir,  this  instant !  You  were  coward 
enough  to  insult  a  man  who  you  knew  could  not 
chastise  you,  and  now  you  would  slander  a  girl! 
There  is  your  way,  sir;  ours  is  in  the  other  direc- 
tion." 

He  had  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  man's  eyes,  and  as  he 
faced  him  he  pointed  with  his  riding  whip  down  the 
road.  The  man  stared  at  him,  and  then  Nelly  saw 
all  the  fierceness  go  out  of  his  eyes.  He  retreated 
slowly  from  Mr.  Wesley,  as  though  he  were  under 
the  influence  of  a  force  upon  which  he  had  not  pre- 
viously reckoned.  Once  he  put  his  hands  quickly 
up  to  his  face,  as  if  to  brush  aside  something  that 
was  oppressing  him.  His  jaw  fell,  and  although  he 


70         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

was  plainly  trying  to  speak,  no  words  came  from 
his  parted  lips.  With  a  slow  indrawing  of  his 
breath  he  followed  with  his  eyes  the  direction  indi- 
cated by  the  other's  riding  whip.  A  horseman  was 
trotting  toward  them,  but  in  the  distance. 

Then  it  was  that  the  man  recovered  his  power  of 
speech. 

"  You  saw  him  coming — that  emboldened  you !  " 
he  said.  "  Don't  fancy  that  because  I  was  a  bit 
dazed  that  'twas  you  who  got  the  better  of  me. 
I'll  have  speech  with  you  anon,  and  if  you  still  have 
faith  in  that  girl " 

The  sound  of  the  clattering  hoofs  down  the  road 
became  more  distinct.  The  man  took  another  quick 
glance  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  then  with 
an  oath  turned  and  leapt  up  to  the  green  bank 
beside  him.  He  scrambled  up  to  the  top  and  at 
once  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

Wesley  and  the  girl  stood  watching  him,  and 
when  he  had  disappeared  their  eyes  took  the  direc- 
tion that  the  man's  had  taken.  A  gentleman,  splen- 
didly mounted  on  a  roan,  with  half  a  dozen  dogs — 
a  couple  of  sleek  spaniels,  a  rough  sheep  dog  and 
three  terriers — at  his  heels,  trotted  up.  Seeing  the 
girl,  he  pulled  up. 

"  Hillo,  Nelly  girl !  "  he  cried  cheerily,  when  she 
had  dropped  him  a  curtsey.  "Hillo!  Who  was 
he  that  slunk  away  among  the  trees?  " 

"  'Twas  only  John  Bennet,  if  you  please,  par- 
son," said  she. 

"  It  doth  not  please  me,"  said  he.  "  The  fellow 
is  only  fit  for  a  madhouse  or  the  county  gaol.  He 
looked,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  as  if  he  was  threat- 
ening you  or — I  ask  your  pardon,  sir;  your  horse 
hid  you." 

When  he  had  pulled  up  Mr.  Wesley  had  been  on 


71 

the  off  side  of  his  horse  and  half  a  dozen  yards 
apart  from  the  girl;  so  that  the  stranger  had  no 
chance  of  seeing  the  bands  that  showed  him  to  be 
a  clergyman. 

"  You  arrived  opportunely,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I 
fear  if  the  man  had  not  perceived  you  coming  in 
the  distance,  we  might  have  found  ourselves  in 
trouble." 

"  What,  did  the  fellow  threaten  you?  Shall  I 
set  the  dogs  upon  his  track?  Say  the  word  and 
I'll  wager  you  King  George  against  your  sorry 
skewbald  that  he'll  find  himself  in  trouble  before 
many  minutes  are  over,"  cried  the  stranger. 

"  Nay,  sir ;  the  man  hath  gone  and  we  are  un- 
harmed," said  Wesley. 

"  The  scoundrel !  Let  me  but  get  him  within 
reach  of  my  whip !  "  said  the  other.  "  But  the  truth 
is,  Nelly,  that  the  fellow  is  more  than  half  de- 
mented through  his  love  for  you.  And  i'  faith,  I 
don't  blame  him.  Ah,  a  sad  puss  you  are,  Nelly. 
There  will  not  be  a  whole  heart  in  the  Port  if  you 
do  not  marry  some  of  your  admirers." 

Then  he  turned  to  Wesley,  saying: 

"  You  are  a  brother  parson,  sir,  I  perceive, 
though  I  do  not  call  your  face  to  mind.  Are  you 
on  your  way  to  take  some  duty — maybe  'tis  for 
Josh  Hilliard;  I  heard  that  he  had  a  touch  of  his 
old  enemy.  But  now  that  I  think  on't  'twould  not 
be  like  Josh  to  provide  a  substitute." 

"  I  have  come  hither  without  having  a  church 
to  preach  in,  sir;  my  name  is  Wesley,  John 
Wesley." 

"  What,  the  head  of  the  men  we  christened  Meth- 
odists at  Oxford?  " 

"  The  same,  sir.  I  believe  that  the  name  hath 
acquired  a  very  honourable  significance  since  those 


72         THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED 

days.  I  hope  that  we  are  all  good  churchmen,  at 
any  rate." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  Mr.  Wesley ;  but  you  will  not 
•preach  in  my  church,  sir,  of  that  you  may  rest 
assured." 

"  You  are  frank,  sir ;  but  pray  remember  that  I 
have  not  yet  asked  your  permission  to  do  so." 

The  other  laughed,  and  spoke  a  word  or  two  to 
his  horse,  wrho  was  becoming  impatient  and  was 
only  controlled  with  difficulty. 

"  A  fair  retort,  Mr.  Wesley — a  fair  retort,  sir," 
he  said.  "  I  like  your  spirit ;  and  by  my  word,  I 
have  a  sort  of  covert  admiration  for  you.  I  hear 
that  none  can  resist  your  preaching — not  even  a 
Bishop.  You  have  my  hearty  sympathy  and  good 
will,  sir,  but  I  will  not  go  to  hear  you  preach.  The 
truth  is  that  you  are  too  persuasive,  Mr.  Wesley, 
and  I  cannot  afford  to  be  persuaded  to  follow  your 
example.  I  find  the  Church  a  very  snug  nest  for 
a  younger  son  with  simple  country  tastes  and  a 
rare  knowledge  of  wThist;  I  am  a  practical  man, 
sir,  and  my  advice  upon  occasion  has  healed  many 
a  feud  between  neighbours.  I  know  a  good  horse 
and  I  ride  straight  to  hounds.  In  the  cockpit  my 
umpiring  is  as  good  law  as  the  Attorney  General 
could  construe  for  a  fee  of  a  thousand  guineas.  Ask 
anyone  in  this  county  what  is  his  opinion  of  Par- 
son Kodney  and  you  will  hear  the  truth  as  I  have 
told  it  to  you.  I  wish  you  luck,  Mr.  Wesley,  but  I 
will  not  countenance  your  preaching  in  my  church ; 
nor  will  I  hear  you,  lest  I  should  be  led  by  you  to 
reform  my  ways,  as  I  suppose  you  would  say;  I 
am  a  younger  son,  and  a  younger  son  cannot  afford 
to  have  doubts  on  the  existing  state  of  things,  when 
the  living  that  he  inherits  is  of  the  net  value  of 
eight  hundred  pounds  per  annum.  So  fare  you 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         73 

well,  sir,  and  I  beg  of  you  not  to  make  my  flock 
too  discontented  with  my  ten-minute  sermons. 
They  should  not  be  so,  seeing  that  my  sermons  are 
not  mine;  but  for  the  most  part  Doctor  Tillotson's 
— an  excellent  divine,  sir — sound — sound  and  not 
above  the  heads  of  our  gaffers.  Fare  thee  well, 
Nelly;  break  as  few  hearts  as  thy  vanity  can  do 
with." 

And  Parson  Kodney,  smiling  gallantly,  and  wav- 
ing his  whip  gracefully,  whistled  to  his  dogs,  and 
put  his  roan  to  the  trot  for  which  he  was  eager. 

"  An  excellent  type,"  murmured  Wesley.  "  Alas ! 
but  too  good  a  type.  Plain,  honest,  a  gentleman; 
but  no  zeal,  no  sense  of  his  responsibility  for  the 
welfare  of  the  souls  entrusted  to  his  keeping." 

He  stood  for  some  time  watching  the  man  on  the 
thoroughbred.  Then  he  turned  to  Nelly  Polwhele, 
saying : 

"  We  were  interrupted  in  our  pleasant  chat ;  but 
we  have  still  three  miles  to  go.  Tell  me  what  the 
people  think  of  Parson  Eodney." 

"  They  do  not  think  aught  about  him,  Mr,  Wes- 
ley; they  all  like  him:  he  never  preaches  longer 
than  ten  minutes." 

"  A  right  good  reason  for  their  liking  of  him — as 
good  a  reason  as  he  had  for  liking  the  Church;  it 
doth  not  exact  overmuch  from  him,  and  it  saves 
him  from  sponging  on  his  friends.  The  Church  of 
England  has  ever  been  an  indulgent  mother." 


CHAPTER    VII 

SUCH  a  sight  had  never  been  seen  in  Cornwall 
before :  on  this  Sunday  morning  an  hour  after  sun- 
rise every  road  leading  to  the  village  of  Porthawn 
had  its  procession  of  men,  women,  and  children, 
going  to  hear  the  preacher.  The  roads  became 
dusty,  as  dry  roads  do  when  an  army  of  soldiers 
passes  over  them ;  and  here  was  an  army  of  soldiers 
along,  with  its  horse  and  foot  and  baggage-waggons 
— such  an  army  as  had  never  been  in  the  West 
since  the  days  of  Monmouth's  Rebellion;  and  this 
great  march  was  the  beginning  of  another  rebel- 
lion, not  destined  to  fail  as  the  other  had  failed. 
Without  banners,  without  arms,  with  no  noise, 
with  no  shoutings  of  the  captains,  this  great  force 
marched  to  fight — to  take  part  in  an  encounter  that 
proved  more  lasting  in  its  effects  than  any  recorded 
in  the  history  of  England  since  the  days  of  the 
Norman  Invasion. 

The  Cornish  crowds  did  not  know  that  they  were 
making  history.  The  people  had  heard  rumours  of 
the  preacher  who  had  awakened  the  people  of  Som- 
ersetshire from  their  sleep  of  years,  and  who,  on 
being  excluded  from  the  churches  which  had  be- 
come Sabbath  dormitories,  had  gone  to  the  fields 
where  all  was  wakefulness,  and  had  here  spoken  to 
the  hearts  of  tens  of  thousands. 

The  reports  that  spread  abroad  by  the  employ- 
ment of  no  apparent  agency  must  have  contained 
some  element  that  appealed  with  overwhelming 
power  to  the  people  of  the  West.  The  impulse  that 

74 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         75 

drove  quiet  folk  from  their  homes  and  induced  them, 
to  march  many  miles  along  dusty  roads  upon  the 
morning  of  the  only  day  of  the  week  that  gave  them 
respite  from  toil  was  surely  stronger  than  mere 
curiosity.  They  did  not  go  into  the  wilderness  to 
see  a  reed  shaken  by  the  wind.  There  was  a  seri- 
ousness of  purpose  and  a  sincerity  about  these  peo- 
ple which  must  have  been  the  result  of  a  strong 
feeling  among  them  that  the  existing  order  of 
things  was  lacking  in  some  essentials — that  the 
Church  should  become  a  stimulating  force  to  them 
who  were  ready  to  perish,  and  not  remain  the  apa- 
thetic force  that  it  was  when  at  its  best,  the 
atrophying  influence  that  it  was  when  at  its 
worst. 

That  the  ground  was  ready  for  the  sowing  was  the 
opinion  of  Wesley,  though  few  signs  had  been  given 
to  him  to  induce  this  conclusion,  but  that  he  had 
not  misinterpreted  the  story  of  the  Valley  of  Dry 
Bones  was  proved  by  the  sight  of  the  multitudes 
upon  the  roads — upon  the  moorland  sheep-tracks — 
upon  the  narrow  lanes  where  the  traffic  was  car- 
ried on  by  pack-horses.  There  they  streamed  in 
their  thousands.  Farmers  writh  their  wives  and 
children  seated  on  chairs  in  their  heavy  waggons, 
men  astride  of  everything  that  was  equine — horses 
and  mules  and  asses — some  with  their  wives  or  sis- 
ters on  the  pillion  behind  them,  but  still  more  rid- 
ing double  with  a  friend. 

On  the  wayside  were  some  who  were  resting,  hav- 
ing walked  seven  or  eight  or  ten  miles,  and  had 
seen  the  sun  rise  over  the  hills  on  that  scented 
Spring  morning.  Some  were  having  their  break- 
fast among  the  primroses  under  the  hedges,  some 
were  smoking  their  pipes  before  setting  forth  to 
complete  their  journey.  Mothers  were  nursing 


76         THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

their  infants  beneath  the  pink  and  white  coral  of 
the  hawthorns. 

"  'Tis  a  fair,"  said  Hal  Holmes  to  his  friend, 
Dick  Pritchardi,  who  was  seated  by  his  side  in  a 
small  pony  cart  made  by  himself  during  the  winter. 

"  Salvation  Fair,"  hazarded  the  water-finder. 
"  Salvation  Fair  I  would  call  it  if  only  I  was  bold 
enough." 

The  smith  shook  his  head. 

"  That  is  how  it  will  be  styled  by  many,  I  doubt 
not,"  he  said.  "  And  being  as  it  must  be,  a  strange 
mixture  of  the  two — a  church-going  and  a  fair- 
going — I  have  my  fears  that  'twill  fall  'twixt  the 
two.  If  the  thing  was  more  of  a  failure  'twould  be 
a  huge  success.  You  take  me,  Dick?  " 

"  Only  vague,  Hal — only  vague,  man,"  replied 
the  water-finder,  after  a  long  cogitating  pause. 
"  When  you  spake  the  words  there  came  a  flash 
upon  me  like  the  glim  from  the  lanthorn  when  'tis 
opened  sudden.  I  saw  the  meaning  clear  enough 
like  as  'twere  a  stretch  of  valley  on  an  uneven  night 
of  moonlight  and  cloud.  Seemed  as  if  there  was 
a  rift  in  your  discourse  and  the  moon  poured 
through.  But  then  the  clouds  fled  across  and  I 
walk  in  the  dark.  Say't  again,  Hal,  and  it  may  be 
that  'twill  be  plain.  I  have  oft  thought  that  your 
speech  lit  up  marvellous  well." 

The  blacksmith  grinned. 

"  Maybe  that  is  by  reason  of  my  work  with  the 
forge,"  he  said.  "  The  furnace  is  black  enough 
until  I  give  it  a  blast  with  the  bellows  and  then  'tis 
a  very  ruby  stone  struck  wi'  lightning." 

"Maybe — ay,  very  likely,"  said  the  little  man 
doubtfully. 

The  smith  grinned  again. 

"  You   don't  altogether   see   it   with    my   eyes, 


77 

friend,"  he  said.  "  How  could  you,  Dick,  our 
trades  being  natural  enemies  the  one  to  t'other? 
My  best  friend  is  fire,  yours  is  water.  But  what 
was  on  my  mind  this  moment  was  the  likelihood 
that  the  light-hearted  may  be  fain  to  treat  this 
great  serious  field  gathering  as  though  it  were  no 
more  than  a  fair.  Now,  I  say  still  that  if  'twas  no 
more  than  a  gathering  together  of  two  or  three 
parishes  none  would  think  of  it  in  light  of  a  fair, 
but  being  as  'tis — a  marvel  of  moving  men  and 
women — why,  then,  there  may  be  levity  and  who 
knows  what  worse." 

"  Ay,  it  looks  as  if  the  carcase  of  the  hills  was 
alive  and  moving  with  crawling  maggots,"  re- 
marked Dick.  The  summit  of  the  hill  on  the  road 
had  been  reached,  and  thus  a  view  was  given  him 
and  his  companion  of  the  hollow  in  the  valley  be- 
yond, which  was  black  with  the  slow-moving  pro- 
cession. 

And  there  were  many  who,  while  anxious  for  the 
success  of  the  meeting,  shared  Hal  Holmes's  fears 
and  doubts  as  to  its  result.  What  impression  could 
one  man  make  upon  so  vast  an  assembly  in  the  open 
air,  they  asked  of  each  other.  They  shook  their 
heads. 

These  were  the  sober-minded  people  who  sympa- 
thised with  the  aims  of  the  preacher — God-fearing 
men  and  women  to  whom  his  hopes  had  been  com- 
municated. They  knew  that  hundreds  in  that  pro- 
cession on  the  march  to  the  meeting-place  were  no 
more  serious  than  they  would  be  had  they  been 
going  to  a  fair.  They  were  going  to  meet  their 
friends,  and  they  were  impelled  by  no  higher  mo- 
tives than  those  which  were  the  result  of  the  in- 
stinct of  the  gregarious  animals.  Many  of  them 
lived  far  away  from  a  town  or  even  a  village,  in  the 


78         THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

wilder  parts  of  the  Duchy,  and  they  laid  hold  on 
an  opportunity  that  promised  to  bring  them  in  con- 
tact with  a  greater  crowd  than  they  had  ever  joined 
before.  The  joy  of  being  one  of  the  crowd  was 
enough  for  them ;  the  preaching  was  only  an  insig- 
nificant incident  in  the  day's  proceedings.  The 
sober-minded,  knowing  this,  were  afraid  that  in 
these  people  the  spirit  of  levity  might  be  aroused, 
especially  if  they  could  not  hear  the  words  of  the 
preacher,  and  the  consequences  would  be  disas- 
trous. 

And  doubtless  there  were  hundreds  of  the  dwell- 
ers along  the  coast  who  would  have  been  pleased 
if  grief  came  to  an  enterprise  that  threatened  their 
employment  as  smugglers  or  the  agents  of  smug- 
glers. Smuggling  and  wrecking  were  along  the 
coast,  and  pretty  far  inland  as  well,  regarded  as  a 
legitimate  calling.  Almost  everyone  participated 
in  the  profits  of  the  contraband,  and  the  majority  of 
the  clergy  would  have  been  very  much  less  con- 
vivial if  they  had  had  to  pay  the  full  price  for  their 
potations.  Preaching  against  such  traffic  would 
have  been  impolitic  as  well  as  hypocritical,  and  the 
clergy  were  neither.  The  parson  who  denounced 
his  congregation  for  forsaking  the  service  on  the 
news  of  a  wreck  reaching  the  church  was,  probably, 
a  fair  type  of  his  order.  His  plea  was  for  fair  play. 
"  Let  us  all  start  fair  for  the  shore,  my  brethren." 

Such  men  had  a  feeling  that  the  man  who  had 
come  to  preach  to  the  multitude  would  be  pretty 
sure  to  denounce  their  fraud;  or  if  he  did  not  act- 
ually denounce  it  he  might  have  such  an  influence 
upon  their  customers  as  would  certainly  be  preju- 
dicial to  the  trade.  This  being  so,  how  could  it  be 
expected  that  they  should  not  look  forward  to  the 
failure  of  the  mission? 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         79 

And  there  was  but  a  solitary  man  to  contend 
against  this  mixed  multitude!  There  was  but  one 
voice  to  cry  in  that  wilderness — one  voice  to 
awaken  those  who  slept.  The  voice  spoke,  and  its 
sound  echoed  round  the  wide  world. 

He  stood  with  bared  head,  with  a  rock  for  his 
pupit,  on  a  small  plateau  overlooking  a  long  stretch 
of  valley.  On  each  side  there  was  an  uneven,  slop- 
ing ground — rocks  overgrown  with  lichen,  and  high 
tufts  of  coarse  herbage  between,  with  countless 
blue  wild  flowers  and  hardy  climbing  plants.  The 
huge  basin  formed  by  the  converging  of  the  slopes 
made  a  natural  amphitheatre,  where  ten  thousand 
people  might  be  seated.  Behind  were  the  cliffs, 
and  all  through  the  day  the  sound  of  the  sea  beat- 
ing around  their  bases  mingled  with  the  sound  of 
many  voices.  A  hundred  feet  to  the  west  there 
hung  poised  in  its  groove  the  enormous  rocking 
stone  of  Red  Tor. 

Perhaps  amongst  the  most  distant  of  his  hearers 
there  was  one  who  might  never  again  have  an  op- 
portunity of  having  the  word  that  awakens  spoken 
in  his  hearing.  There  might  be  one  whose  heart  was 
as  the  ground  in  Summer — waiting  for  the  seed  to 
be  sown  that  should  bring  forth  fruit,  sixtyfold  or 
an  hundredfold.  That  was  what  the  man  thought 
as  he  looked  over  the  vast  multitude.  He  felt  for  a 
moment  overwhelmed  by  a  sense  of  his  responsi- 
bility. He  felt  that  by  no  will  of  his  own  he  had 
been  thrust  forward  to  perform  a  miracle,  and  he 
understood  clearly  that  the  responsibility  of  its  per- 
formance rested  with  him. 

For  a  moment  the  cry  of  the  overwhelmed  was  in 
his  heart. 

"  It  is  too  much  that  is  laid  upon  me." 

For  a  moment  he  experienced  that  sense  of  re- 


80         THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

bellion  which  in  a  supreme  moment  of  their  lives — 
the  moment  preceding  a  great  achievement  for  the 
benefit  of  the  world — takes  possession  of  so  many 
of  the  world's  greatest,  and  which  has  its  origin  in 
a  feeling  of  humility.  It  lasted  but  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  found  that  every  thought  of  his  mind — 
every  sense  of  his  soul — was  absorbed  by  another 
and  greater  force.  He  had  a  consciousness  of  being 
possessed  by  a  Power  that  dominated  every  sensa- 
tion of  his  existence.  That  Power  had  thrust  him 
out  from  himself  as  it  were,  and  he  felt  that  he  was 
standing  by  wondering  wrhile  a  voice  that  he  did 
not  know  to  be  his  own  went  forth,  and  he  knew 
that  it  reached  the  most  remote  of  the  people  before 
him.  It  was  like  his  own  voice  heard  in  a  dream. 
For  days  there  had  been  before  his  eyes  the  vision 
that  had  come  to  the  prophet — the  vision  of  the 
Valley  of  Dry  Bones.  He  had  seemed  to  stand  by 
the  side  of  the  man  to  whom  it  had  been  revealed. 
He  had  always  felt  that  the  scene  was  one  of  the 
most  striking  that  had  ever  been  depicted ;  but  dur- 
ing the  week  it  was  not  merely  its  mysticism  that 
had  possessed  him.  He  felt  that  it  was  a  real  oc- 
currence taking  place  before  his  very  eyes. 

And  now  he  was  standing  on  his  rock  looking  all 
through  that  long  valley,  and  he  saw — not  the  thou- 
sands of  people  who  looked  up  to  him,  but  ranks 
upon  ranks  and  range  upon  range  of  dead  men's 
bones,  bleaching  in  the  sunshine — filling  up  all  the 
hollows  of  the  valley  forsaken  of  life,  overhung  by 
that  dread  legend  of  a  battle  fought  so  long  ago 
that  its  details  had  vanished.  There  they  stretched, 
hillocks  of  white  bones — ridges  of  white  bones — 
heaps  upon  heaps.  The  winds  of  a  thousand  years 
had  wailed  and  shrieked  and  whistled,  sweeping 
through  the  valley,  the  rains  of  a  thousand  years 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED         81 

had  been  down  upon  them — hail  and  snow  had  flung 
their  pall  of  white  over  the  whiteness  of  the  things 
that  lay  there,  the  lightnings  had  made  lurid  the 
hollow  places  in  the  rocks,  and  had  rent  in  sunder 
the  overhanging  cliffs — there  was  the  sign  of  such 
a  storm — the  tumbled  tons  of  black  basalt  that  lay 
athwart  one  of  the  white  hillocks — and  on  nights 
of  fierce  tempest  the  white  foam  from  the  distant 
sea  had  been  borne  through  the  air  and  flung  in 
quivering  flakes  over  cliffs  and  into  chasm — upon 
coarse  herbage  and  the  blue  rock  flowers.  But  some 
nights  were  still.  The  valley  was  canopied  with 
stars.  And  there  were  nights  of  vast  moonlight, 
and  the  white  moonlight  spread  itself  like  a  great 
translucent  lake  over  the  white  deadness  of  that 
dreary  place.  .  .  . 

The  man  saw  scene  after  scene  in  that  valley  as 
in  a  dream.  And  then  there  came  a  long  silence, 
and  out  of  that  silence  he  heard  the  voice  that  said : 

"  Can  these  dead  bones  live?  " 

There  was  another  silence  before  the  awful  voice 
spoke  the  command: 

"  Let  these  bones  live !  " 

Through  the  moments  of  silence  that  followed, 
the  sound  of  the  sea  was  borne  by  a  fitful  breeze 
over  the  cliff  face  and  swept  purring  through  the 
valley. 

Then  came  the  moment  of  marvel.  There  was  a 
quivering  here  and  there — something  like  the  long 
indrawing  of  breath  of  a  sleeper  who  has  slept  for 
long  but  now  awakens — a  slow  heaving  as  of  a 
giant  refreshed,  and  then  in  mysterious,  dread  si- 
lence, with  no  rattling  of  hollow  skeleton  limbs, 
there  came  the  great  moving  among  the  dry  bones, 
and  they  rose  up,  an  exceeding  great  army. 

Life  had  come  triumphant  out  of  the  midst  of 


82         THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

Death.  That  was  what  the  voice  said.  The  whole 
valley,  which  had  been  silent  an  hour  before,  was 
now  vibrating,  pulsating  writh  life — the  tumult  of 
life  which  flows  through  a  great  army — every  man 
alert,  at  his  post  in  his  rank — waiting  for  whatever 
might  come — the  advance  of  the  enemy,  the  carry- 
ing out  of  the  strategy  of  the  commander. 

Life  had  come  triumphant  out  of  the  midst  of 
death,  and  who  wrould  dare  now  to  say  that  the 
deepest  spiritual  life  might  not  lie  hidden  from 
sight  among  the  bleaching  heaps  of  dead  bones  that 
strewed  the  valley  from  cliffs  to  cliffs — hidden  but 
only  waiting  for  the  voice  to  cry  aloud : 

"  Let  these  bones  live !  " 

"  Oh,  that  that  Dread  Voice  wTould  speak  through 
me !  "  cried  the  preacher. 

That  was  the  first  time  he  became  conscious  of 
the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  and  he  was  startled. 
He  had  heard  that  other  voice  speaking,  carrying 
him  away  upon  the  wings  of  its  words  down 
through  the  depths  of  that  mystic  valley,  but  now 
all  was  silent  and  he  was  standing  wTith  trembling 
hands  and  quivering  lips,  gazing  out  over  no  val- 
ley of  mystery  alive  with  a  moving  host,  but  over 
a  Cornish  vale  of  crags;  and  yet  there  beneath  his 
eyes  were  thousands  of  faces,  and  they  looked  like 
the  faces  of  such  as  had  been  newly  awakened  after 
a  long  sleep — dazed — wondering — waiting.  .  .  . 

He  saw  it.  The  great  awakening  had  come  to 
these  people,  and  now  they  were  waiting — for  what? 

He  knew  what  he  had  to  offer  them.  He  knew 
what  was  the  message  with  which  he  had  been  en- 
trusted— the  good  news  which  they  had  never  heard 
before. 

And  he  told  it  writh  all  simplicity,  in  all  humility, 
in  all  sincerity — the  evangel  of  boundless  love — of 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED        83 

illimitable  salvation,  not  from  the  wrath  to  come — 
he  had  no  need  to  speak  of  the  Day  of  Wrath — his 
theme  was  the  Day  of  Grace — salvation  from  the 
distrust  of  God's  mercy — salvation  from  the  doubts, 
from  the  cares  of  the  world,  from  the  lethargy  that 
fetters  the  souls  of  men,  from  the  gross  darkness 
and  from  the  complacency  of  walking  in  that  dark- 
ness. 

He  let  light  in  upon  their  darkness  and  he  forced 
them  to  see  the  dangers  of  the  dark,  and,  seeing, 
they  were  overwhelmed.  For  the  first  time  these 
people  had  brought  before  their  eyes  the  reality  of 
sin — the  reality  of  salvation.  They  had  had  doc- 
trines brought  before  them  in  the  past,  but  the  tale 
of  doctrines  had  left  them  unmoved.  They  had 
never  felt  that  doctrines  were  otherwise  than  cold, 
impassioned  utterances.  Doctrines  might  have 
been  the  graceful  fabrics  that  clothed  living  truths, 
but  the  truth  had  been  so  wrapped  up  in  them  that 
it  had  remained  hidden  so  far  as  they  were  con- 
cerned. They  had  never  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
living  reality  beneath. 

But  here  was  the  light  that  showed  them  the 
living  thing  for  which  they  had  waited,  and  the 
wonder  of  the  sight  overwhelmed  them. 

The  voice  of  the  preacher  spoke  to  them  individ- 
ually. That  was  the  sole  mystery  of  the  preaching 
— the  sole  magnetism  (as  it  has  been  called)  of  the 
preacher. 

And  that  was  the  sole  mystery  of  the  manifes- 
tation that  followed.  Faces  were  streaming  with 
tears,  knees  were  bowed  in  prayer;  but  there  were 
other  temperaments  that  were  forced  to  give  ex- 
pression to  their  varied  feelings — of  wonder,  of 
humiliation,  of  exultation.  These  were  not  to  be 
controlled.  There  were  wild  sobbings,  passionate 


84         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

cries,  a  shout  or  two  of  thanksgiving,  an  outburst 
of  penitence — all  the  result  of  the  feelings  too 
strong  to  be  controlled,  and  all  tokens  of  the  new 
life  that  had  begun  to  pulsate  in  that  multitude — 
all  tokens  that  the  Valley  which  had  been  strewn 
with  dry  bones  had  heard  the  voice  that  said : 

"  Let  these  dry  bones  live." 

There  was  a  great  moving  among  the  dry  b«aes, 
and  they  stood  up,  an  exceeding  great  armj. 


CHAPTEE    VIII 

His  preaching  had  ceased,  but  the  note  that  he 
had  struck  continued  to  vibrate  through  the  valley. 
He  had  spoken  with  none  of  the  formality  of  the 
priest  who  aims  at  keeping  up  a  certain  aloofness 
from  the  people.  This  Mr.  Wesley  had  spoken  as 
brother  to  brother,  and  every  phrase  that  he  uttered 
meant  the  breaking  down  of  another  of  the  barriers 
wThich  centuries  had  built  up  between  the  pulpit 
and  the  people. 

They  proved  that  they  felt  this  to  be  so  when  he 
came  among  them.  Warm  hands  were  stretched 
out  to  meet  his  own — wrords  of  blessing  were 
ejaculated  by  such  as  were  able  to  speak;  but  in- 
finitely more  eloquent  wrere  the  mute  expressions 
of  the  feeling  of  the  multitude.  Some  there  were 
who  could  not  be  restrained  from  throwing  them- 
selves upon  his  shoulders,  clasping  him  as  if  he  had 
indeed  been  their  brother  from  whom  they  had  been 
separated  for  long;  others  caught  his  hands  and 
kissed  them.  Tears  were  still  on  many  faces,  and 
many  were  lighted  up  with  an  expression  of  rapture 
that  transfigured  their  features. 

He  made  no  attempt  to  restrain  any  of  the  ex- 
travagances to  which  that  hour  had  given  birth. 
He  knew  better  than  to  do  so.  He  had  read  of  the 
extravagant  welcome  given  by  the  people  of  a  town 
long  besieged  to  the  envoys  who  brought  the  first 
news  of  the  approach  of  the  relieving  force,  and 
he  knew  that  he  was  there  as  an  envoy  to  tell  the 
people  about  him  of  their  release.  He  had  him- 
self witnessed  the  reception  given  to  the  King's 

85 


86 

Posts  that  brought  the  tidings  of  the  last  peace,  and 
he  knew  that  he  himself  was  a  King's  Messenger, 
bearing  to  these  people  the  tidings  of  Peace  and 
Goodwill. 

He  had  a  word  of  kindness  and  comfort  and  ad- 
vice to  all.  He  was  an  elder  brother,  talking  to 
the  members  of  his  owTn  family  on  equal  terms. 
But  soon  he  left  the  side  of  these  new-found 
brethren,  for  his  eyes  had  not  failed  to  see  some 
who  were  sitting  apart  among  the  low  crags — some 
in  silent  dejection,  bearing  the  expression  of  pris- 
oners for  whom  no  order  of  release  has  come, 
though  they  had  seen  it  come  for  others.  But  all 
were  not  silent:  many  wrere  moaning  aloud  with 
ejaculations  of  despair.  In  the  joy  that  had  been 
brought  to  their  friends  they  had  no  share.  Nay, 
the  message  that  had  brought  peace  to  others  had 
brought  despair  to  them.  They  had  been  happy 
enough  before,  knowing  nothing  of  or  caring  noth- 
ing for,  the  dangers  that  surrounded  them  in  the 
darkness,  and  the  letting  in  of  the  light  upon  them 
had  appalled  them. 

He  was  beside  them  in  a  moment,  questioning 
them,  soothing  their  fears,  removing  their  doubts, 
whispering  a  word  or  two  of  prayer  in  their  ears. 
Jake,  the  carrier,  had  been  right :  the  preacher  had 
balm  for  the  wounds  of  those  wrho  suffered.  He 
went  about  among  them  for  hours,  not  leaving  the 
side  of  any  who  doubted  until  their  doubts  had  been 
removed  and  they  shared  the  happiness  that  the 
Great  Message  brought  with  it.  But  the  evangel 
had  arisen  upon  that  valley  as  the  Daystar,  with 
healing  in  its  wings. 

When  the  multitude  dispersed,  the  church  bells 
were  making  melody  over  the  hills  and  through  the 
dales.  The  Keverend  Mr.  Wesley  wras  a  good 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         87 

churchman,  and  he  took  care  that  his  preaching  did 
not  interfere  with  the  usual  services.  His  object 
was  to  fill  the  churches  with  devout  men,  and  not 
merely  the  body  of  the  churches,  but  the  pulpits  as 
well. 

For  himself,  he  withdrew  from  his  friends  and 
walked  slowly  up  one  of  the  tracks  leading  to  the 
summit  of  the  cliffs  a  few  miles  beyond  the  village 
of  Porthawn.  He  wished  to  be  alone,  for  amid  all 
his  feelings  of  thankfulness  for  the  good  which  he 
knew  had  been  done  through  his  preaching,  there 
came  to  him  a  doubt.  Had  he  been  faithful  in 
his  delivery  of  the  Message?  Had  he  yielded 
up  everything  of  self  to  the  service  of  the  Master? 
Had  he  said  a  word  that  might  possibly  become  a 
stone  of  stumbling  to  the  feet  that  had  just  set  out 
upon  the  narrow  way? 

That  was  the  fear  which  wras  ever  present  with 
him — the  possibility  that  the  Message  had  failed  in 
its  power  by  reason  of  his  frailty  in  delivering  it — 
the  possibility  that  he  might  attribute  to  himself 
some  of  the  merit  of  the  Message. 

The  hours  which  he  passed  in  loneliness  almost 
every  day  of  his  life,  the  solitary  rides  covering 
thousands  of  miles,  his  long  walks  without  a  com- 
panion, were  devoted  to  self  renunciation.  He 
was  more  afraid  of  himself  than  of  any  enemy  from 
without.  He  sometimes  found  himself  in  such  a 
frame  of  mind  as  caused  him  to  admire  the  spirit 
that  led  the  priests  of  the  heathen  beliefs  in  the 
East  to  torture  and  mutilate  themselves  in  the  at- 
tainment of  what  appeared  to  them  to  be  holiness. 
He  knew  that  their  way  was  not  the  right  way,  and 
the  object  which  they  strove  to  achieve  was  not  a 
worthy  one ;  but  he  could  not  deny  the  self-sacrifice 
and  its  value. 


88         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

Yes,  but  was  it  not  possible  that  self-sacrifice 
might,  if  performed  ostentatiously,  become  only 
another  form  of  self-glorification? 

It  was  only  now  that  this  thought  flashed  upon 
him.  He  had  walked  along  the  cliff  path  for  a 
mile  or  two,  and  soon  became  aware  of  the  pangs 
of  hunger.  It  wras  nothing  for  him  to  set  out  to 
preach  without  having  more  than  a  bite  or  two  of 
bread,  and  to  go  fasting  until  the  afternoon.  He 
had  never  regarded  this  as  an  act  of  self-sacrifice. 
But  how  had  he  felt  when  some  of  his  friends  had 
made  much  of  these  facts,  entreating  him  to  be 
more  mindful  of  his  health?  Had  he  not  felt  a 
certain  pride  in  thinking  that  his  health  was  re- 
garded as  important? 

And  now,  when  he  should  return  to  the  house 
where  he  was  a  guest — it  was  the  house  of  a  Mr. 
Hartwell,  the  owner  of  a  mine  in  the  tin  district 
some  distance  from  Porthawn — would  not  his  hours 
of  fasting  preceding  and  following  the  exertion  of 
preaching  to  so  great  a  multitude  in  the  open  air 
make  him  appear  akin  to  a  martyr  in  the  eyes  of  the 
people  with  whom  he  might  come  in  contact? 

Nay,  could  he  deny  that  he  felt  some  vanity  in 
the  reflection  that  here  again  he  would  be  seri- 
ously remonstrated  with  for  his  disregard  of  him- 
self? 

Even  his  orderly  mind  was  unable  to  differentiate 
between  the  degrees  of  self-sacrifice  and  self-satis- 
faction involved  in  this  simple  question  of  fasting 
and  eating,  and  he  was  troubled  that  his  attempts 
to  do  so  were  not  wholly  successful.  It  was  like 
the  man  that,  in  his  hours  of  exhaustion,  he  should 
be  dissatisfied  with  what  was  really  the  result  of 
his  exhaustion.  This  trivial  self-examination  was, 
though  he  did  not  know  it,  only  the  result  of  his 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED         89 

neglect  of  the  wants  of  his  body.  Yes,  but  this  fact 
did  not  make  it  the  less  worrying  to  him. 

He  had  been  led  by  the  charm  of  the  day  to  walk 
farther  than  he  had  intended,  and  he  was  so  ex- 
hausted that  he  found  it  necessary  to  rest  in  a  dip 
of  the  cliffs  above  the  little  bay.  On  each  side  of 
him  stretched  the  broken  shore,  a  short  crescent 
patch  of  sand  at  every  dip  in  that  long,  uneven  wall, 
and  marking  the  outline  of  its  curve  was  the  white 
floss  of  the  lazy  ripples.  Behind  him  was  the 
coarse  sand-herbage  of  the  broken  shore,  and  in 
front  of  him  stretched  the  sea.  A  wThite  bird  or 
two  hovered  between  the  waters  and  the  cliff  sum- 
mit, and  far  away  a  revenue  cutter  showed  its 
Avhite  sails.  Sunlight  was  over  all.  The  warm  air 
seemed  imbued  with  the  presence  of  God,  which  all 
might  breathe  and  become  at  peace  with  all  the 
world. 

It  came  over  the  face  of  the  waters,  upon  the 
face  of  the  man  who  reclined  upon  a  cushion  of 
springy  herbage  that  quite  hid  the  shape  of  the 
rock  at  whose  base  it  found  root.  The  feathery 
touch  upon  his  brow  soothed  him  as  a  mother's 
hand  soothes  her  child  and  banishes  its  distrust. 
He  lay  there  and  every  doubt  that  had  oppressed 
him  vanished.  He  was  weary  and  hungry,  but  he 
felt  that  the  grace  of  heaven  was  giving  him  food 
in  the  strength  of  which  he  might  wander  in  the 
wilderness  for  forty  days. 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  with  the  faint  hum  of  the 
little  bees  that  droned  among  the  blue  cliff-flowers, 
—with  the  faint  wash  of  the  ripples  upon  the  un- 
numbered pebbles  of  the  beach — a  sweet  sleep  crept 
over  him. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  not  with  a  start,  but  as 
gently  as  he  had  fallen  asleep.  For  a  moment  he 


90         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

had  a  fear  that  he  had  overslept  himself.  He 
turned  to  look  at  the  sun  and  saw  standing  only 
half  a  dozen  yards  away  the  girl  by  whose  side  he 
had  walked  a  few  mornings  before  to  the  village. 

The  picture  that  she  made  to  his  eyes  was  in 
keeping  with  the  soothing  sights  and  sounds  of  this 
placid  day.  She  wore  a  white  kirtle  and  cap,  but 
the  latter  had  failed  to  restrain  the  abundant  hair 
which  showed  itself  in  little  curls  upon  her  fore- 
head, and  in  long  strands  of  sunshine  over  her  ears 
and  behind  them.  She  was  pleasant  to  look  at — as 
pleasant  as  was  everything  else  of  nature  on  this 
day;  and  he  looked  at  her  with  pleased  eyes  for 
some  time  before  speaking. 

As  for  Nelly,  she  was  not  watching  him;  but  he 
could  see  that  she  had  seen  him ;  she  had  only  turned 
away  lest  he  should  have  a  man's  distaste  to  be 
caught  sleeping  in  the  daytime.  He  perceived  this 
the  moment  that  he  spoke  and  she  turned  to  him. 
The  little  start  that  she  gave  was  artificial.  It 
made  him  smile. 

"  I  am  at  your  mercy ;  but  you  will  not  betray 
my  weakness  to  anyone,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her. 

"  Oh,  sir !  "  she  cried,  raising  her  hands. 

"You  saw  me  sleeping.  I  hope  that  'twas  not 
for  long,"  he  said. 

"I  did  not  come  hither  more  than  five  minutes 
agone,  sir,"  she  replied.  "  You  cannot  have  slept 
more  than  half  an  hour.  I  came  to  seek  you  after 
the  preaching." 

"You  have  not  been  at  your  church,  girl?"  he 
said. 

"  I  was  at  your  church,  Mr.  Wesley.  I  like  Par- 
son Rodney.  I  did  not  go  to  his  church." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I   like  not  such  an   answer,   child.     'T would 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         91 

grieve  me  to  learn  that  there  were  many  of  my 
hearers  who  would  frame  the  same  excuse." 

She  hung  her  head. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  she  said.  "  It  was  my  intent 
to  go  to  Parson  Kodney's  church,  if  only  to  see  how 
vast  a  difference  there  was  'twixt — that  is — I  mean, 
Mr.  Wesley,  that — that  my  intention  was  to  be  in 
church,  only  when  I  saw  that  you  had  wended  your 
way  alone  through  the  valley,  not  going  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Mr.  Hartwell's  house,  but  far  away  from  it 
— what  could  one  do,  sir,  who  knew  that  you  could 
not  have  had  a  bite  to  eat  since  early  morning — 
and  after  such  a  preaching  and  an  after-meeting 
that  filled  up  another  fasting  hour?  '  He  has  no 
one  to  look  after  him,'  said  my  mother  in  my  ear. 
*  He  is  a  forlorn  man  who  thinks  that  he  is  doing 
God's  service  by  forgetting  that  his  body  must  be 
nourished  if  his  soul  is  to  remain  sound.' ' 

"  That  is  what  your  mother  said — 'tis  shrewd 
enough.  And  what  did  you  reply?  Mind  that  the 
answer  hath  a  bearing  upon  your  staying  away  from 
church,  Nelly." 

"  I  said  naught,  Mr.  Wesley ;  but  what  I  did  was 
to  hurry  to  our  home  and  pack  you  a  basket  of 
humble  victuals  and — here  it  is." 

She  picked  up  a  reed  basket  from  the  grass  and 
brought  it  beside  him.  Kneeling  then  on  a  stone 
she  raised  the  lid  and  showed  him  a  dish  of  cooked 
pilchards,  some  cakes  of  wheat  bread  and  a  piece 
of  cream  cheese  laid  on  a  pale  green  lettuce. 

She  had  spread  the  coarsest  and  Whitest  napkin 
he  had  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  the  crag  at  his 
elbow,  and  with  the  air  of  a  bustling  housewife 
laid  a  plate  and  knife  and  fork  for  him,  talking  all 
the  time — reproving  him  quite  gravely  and  even 
severely  for  his  inattention  to  his  stomach — there 


92         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

was  no  picking  and  choosing  of  words  in  Cornwall 
or  elsewhere  during  that  robust  century.  She 
gave  him  no  chance  of  defending  himself,  but  rat- 
tled on  upbraiding  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  negligent 
schoolboy,  until  she  had  laid  out  his  picnic  for  him, 
and  had  spread  the  butter  on  one  of  the  home-made 
cakes,  saying: 

"  There,  now,  you  must  not  get  upon  your  feet 
until  you  have  put  down  all  that  is  before  you.  If 
you  was  to  make  the  attempt  to  do  so  your  long 
fast  would  make  you  so  faint  that  you  wrould  run  a 
chance  of  tottering  over  the  cliff." 

He  saw  that  there  was  no  need  for  him  to  say  a 
word.  What  could  he  say  in  the  face  of  such  atten- 
tion to  his  needs  as  the  girl  was  showing? 

"  I  submit  with  a  good  grace,  my  dear,"  he  said 
when  her  work  was  done  and  she  paused  for  breath. 
"  Why  should  not  I  submit?  I  am,  as  you  said, 
weak  by  reason  of  hunger,  and  lo,  a  table  is  spread 
for  me  with  such  delicacies  as  would  tickle  the  ap- 
petite of  a  man  who  has  just  partaken  of  a  heavy 
meal,  and  I  am  not  that  man.  Happier  than  the 
prophet,  I  am  fed  not  by  ravens,  but  by  a  white 
dove." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  she  said,  her  face  shining  with  pleas- 
ure. "  Oh,  sir,  I  protest  that  even  in  the  genteelest 
society  at  the  Bath,  I  never  had  so  pretty  a  com- 
pliment paid  to  me." 

He  had  paid  his  compliment  to  her  in  a  delicate 
spirit  of  bantering,  so  as  to  make  no  appeal  to  her 
vanity,  and  he  saw  that  her  pleasure  wras  not  the 
result  of  gratified  vanity. 

"  But  concerning  yourself,  my  dear,"  he  cried 
when  he  had  his  fork  in  his  hand,  but  had  as  yet 
touched  nothing.  "  If  I  was  fasting  you  must  be 
also." 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED         93 

"  What,  sir,  did  I  omit  to  say  that  I  returned  to 
my  home  after  your  preaching?  "  she  said.  "  Oh, 
yes ;  I  got  the  basket  there  and  the  pilchards.  My 
father  despises  pilchards,  but  I  hope  that  you " 

"  I  am  a  practical  man,  Nelly,  and  I  know,  with- 
out the  need  to  make  a  calculation  on  paper,  that 
you  could  not  be  more  than  a  few  minutes  in  your 
cottage,  and  that  all  that  time  was  spent  by  you 
over  my  basket.  I  know  such  as  you — a  hasty 
mouthful  of  cake  and  a  spoonful  of  milk  and  you 
say,  '  I  have  dined.'  Now  I  doubt  much  if  you  had 
so  much  as  a  spoonful  of  milk,  and  therefore  I 
say  that  unless  you  face  me  at  this  table  of  stone,  I 
will  eat  nothing  of  your  store ;  and  I  know  that  that 
would  be  the  greatest  punishment  I  could  inflict 
upon  you.  Take  your  place,  madam,  at  the  head 
of  the  table." 

She  protested. 

"  Nay,  sir,  I  brought  not  enough  for  two — barely 
enough  to  sustain  one  that  is  a  small  feeder  until 
he  has  the  opportunity  of  sitting  down  to  a  regular 
meal." 

"  I  have  spoken,"  he  said.  "  I  need  but  a  bite ! 
Oh,  the  long  fasting  journeys  that  I  have  had 
within  the  year !  " 

She  still  hesitated,  but  when,  at  last,  she  seated 
herself,  she  did  not  cause  him  to  think  that  he  had 
made  her  feel  ill  at  ease ;  she  adapted  herself  to  the 
position  into  which  he  had  forced  her,  from  the 
moment  she  sat  opposite  to  him.  She  forgot  for  the 
time  that  he  was  the  preacher  on  whom  thousands 
of  men  and  women  had  hung  a  couple  of  hours  be- 
fore, and  that  she,  if  she  had  not  been  with  him, 
would  have  been  eating  in  a  fisherman's  cottage. 

She  had  acquired,  through  her  association  with 
the  Squire's  young  ladies,  something  of  their  man- 


94         THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

ners.  Her  gift  of  quick  observation  was  allied  to 
a  capacity  to  copy  what  she  observed,  and  being, 
womanlike,  well  aware  of  this  fact,  she  had  no 
reason  to  feel  otherwise  than  at  ease  while  she  ate 
her  share  of  the  pilchards,  and  made  him  feel  all 
the  time  that  she  was  partaking  of  his  hospitality. 
As  for  the  preacher,  he  felt  the  girl's  thoughtful- 
ness  very  deeply.  It  seemed  that  she  wras  the  only 
one  of  the  thousands  who  had  stood  before  him  that 
had  thought  for  his  needs.  Her  tact  and  the  grace- 
ful way  in  which  she  displayed  it,  even  down  to 
her  readiness  to  sit  with  him  lest  he  should  feel 
that  she  was  remaining  hungry,  pleased  him;  and 
her  chat,  abounding  with  shrewdness,  was  grace- 
fully frank.  He  felt  refreshed  beyond  measure  by 
her  freshness,  and  he  rose  to  walk  to  the  house 
where  he  was  a  guest,  feeling  that  it  was,  indeed, 
good  for  him  to  have  changed  the  loneliness  of  his 
stroll  for  the  companionship  which  she  offered  him. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  question  had  often  been  discussed  by  him 
to  the  furthest  point  possible  (as  he  thought)  for 
its  consideration  to  be  extended;  and  how  was  it 
that  he  found  himself  debating  it  at  this  time  in 
its  crudest  form?  He  had  long  ago  settled  it  to 
his  own  satisfaction,  that  his  life  was  to  be  a  lonely 
one  through  the  world.  Not  for  him  were  to  be 
the  pleasant  cares  of  home  or  wife  or  child.  Not 
for  him  was  the  tenderness  of  woman — not  for  him 
the  babble  of  the  little  lips,  every  quiver  of  which 
is  a  caress.  His  work  was  sufficient  for  him,  he 
had  often  said,  and  the  contemplation  of  the  possi- 
bility of  anything  on  earth  coming  between  him  and 
his  labours,  filled  him  with  alarm.  He  felt  that  if 
he  were  to  cease  to  be  absorbed  in  his  work,  he 
should  be  unfaithful  to  his  trust.  The  only  one 
that  was  truly  faithful  was  the  one  who  was  ready 
to  give  up  all  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
Master. 

But  being  human  and  full  of  human  sympathy, 
he  had  often  felt  a  moment's  envy  entering  the  house 
of  one  of  his  friends  who  was  married  and  become 
the  father  of  children.  The  hundred  little  occur- 
rences incidental  to  a  household,  where  there  was  a 
nursery  and  a  schoolroom,  were  marked  by  him — 
the  clambering  of  little  chubby  legs  up  to  the 
father's  knee — the  interpretation  of  the  latest 
phrase  that  fell  from  baby  lips — the  charm  of 
golden  silk  curls  around  an  innocent  child's  face — 
all  these  and  a  score  of  other  delights  associated 

95 


96         THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEYAILED 

with  the  household  had  appealed  to  him,  giving  him 
an  hour's  longing  at  the  time,  and  a  tender  recol- 
lection at  intervals  in  after  years. 

"  Not  for  me — not  for  me,"  he  had  said.  So 
jealous  was  he  of  his  work  that,  as  has  been  noted, 
the  possibility  of  his  becoming  absorbed — even  par- 
tially— by  anything  that  was  not  directlj7  pertaining 
to  his  work,  was  a  dread  to  him.  He  set  himself  the 
task  of  crushing  down  within  him  every  aspiration 
that  might  tend  to  interfere  with  the  carrying  out 
of  the  labour  of  his  life,  and  he  believed  that,  by 
stern  and  strict  endeavour,  he  had  succeeded  in 
doing  so. 

Then  why  should  he  now  find  himself  considering 
the  question  which  he  believed  he  had  settled  for- 
ever? Why  should  he  now  begin  to  see  that  the 
assurance  that  it  was  not  good  for  a  man  to  be 
alone  was  based  upon  a  knowledge  of  men  and  was 
wise? 

He  found  an  apt  illustration  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
precept  in  the  conduct  of  the  girl  who  had  shown 
such  thoughtfulness  in  regard  to  him.  "  Mentern 
mortalia  tangunt,"  was  the  sors  Virgiliana  which 
came  to  his  mind  at  the  moment.  He  recognised 
the  truth  of  it.  A  man  was  affected  by  the  material 
conditions  of  his  life.  If  the  girl  had  not  shown 
such  thought  for  his  comfort,  he  would  well-nigh 
hare  been  broken  down  by  his  exhausting  labours 
of  the  day,  followed  up  by  an  exhausting  walk  along 
the  cliffs.  He  might  not  have  returned  to  the 
house  at  which  he  was  staying  in  time  to  dine,  be- 
fore setting  out  for  a  long  drive  to  another  place 
for  an  afternoon's  meeting.  So  absorbed  was  he 
apt  to  be  in  his  preaching  that  he  became  oblivious 
to  every  consideration  of  daily  life.  What  were  to 
him  such  trivial  matters  as  eating  and  drinking  at 


97 

regular  intervals?  He  neglected  the  needs  of  his 
body,  and  only  when  he  had  suffered  for  so  doing 
did  he  feel  that  his  carelessness  was  culpable.  On 
recovering  from  its  immediate  effects,  however,  he 
fell  back  into  his  old  habits. 

But  now  the  thought  that  came  to  him  was  that 
he  had  need  for  someone  to  be  by  his  side  as  (for 
example)  Nelly  Polwhele  had  been.  He  knew  quite 
well,  without  having  had  the  experience  of  married 
life,  that  if  he  had  had  a  wife,  he  would  not  have 
been  allowed  to  do  anything  so  unwise  as  to  walk 
straight  away  from  the  preaching  to  the  cliffs,  hav- 
ing eaten  nothing  since  the  early  morning,  and  then 
only  a  single  cake  of  bread.  A  good  wife  would 
have  drawn  him  away  from  the  people  to  whom  he 
was  talking,  to  the  house  where  he  was  a  guest,  and 
when  there  have  set  about  providing  for  him  the 
food  which  he  lacked  and  the  rest  which  he  needed 
to  restore  him  after  his  arduous  morning's  work,  so 
that  he  might  set  out  for  the  afternoon's  preaching 
feeling  as  fresh  as  he  had  felt  in  the  morning. 

He  was  grateful  to  the  girl,  not  only  for  her  at- 
tention to  him,  but  also  for  affording  him  an  illus- 
tration favourable  to  his  altered  way  of  looking  at 
a  question  which  he  fancied  had  long  ago  been  set- 
tled forever  in  his  mind.  ( He  had  long  ago  forgiven 
the  woman,  who,  in  America,  had  taught  him  to 
believe  that  a  life  of  loneliness  is  more  conducive 
to  one's  peace  of  mind  than  a  life  linked  to  an  un- 
sympathetic companion. ) 

And  having  been  led  to  such  a  conclusion,  it  was 
only  reasonable  that  he  should  make  a  resolution 
that,  if  he  should  ever  be  so  fortunate  as  to  meet 
with  a  virtuous  lady  whom  he  should  find  to  possess 
those  qualities  which  promised  most  readily  to  ad- 
vance the  work  which  he  had  at  heart,  he  would  not 


98         THE    LOVE   THAT   PREVAILED 

be  glow  to  ask  her  to  be  his  companion  to  such  an 
end. 

This  point  settled  to  his  satisfaction  (as  he 
thought),  he  mounted  his  horse,  after  a  week's  stay 
in  the  valley  of  the  Lana,  and  made  his  way  to  the 
tinners  of  Carnlin,  twenty  miles  further  along  the 
coast.  Here  he  was  received  with  open  arms,  and 
preached  from  his  rock  pulpit  to  thousands  of 
eager  men  and  women  an  hour -after  sunrise  on  a 
summer  morning. 

On  still  for  another  fortnight,  in  wilder  districts, 
among  people  who  rarely  entered  a  church,  and 
whom  the  church  made  no  attempt  to  reach.  These 
were  the  people  for  him.  He  was  told  that  he  was 
going  forth  to  sow  the  seed  in  stony  ground,  but 
when  he  came  and  began  to  sow,  he  found  that  it  fell 
upon  fruitful  soil.  Here  it  was  impossible  for  him 
to  find  a  huge  congregation,  so  scattered  were  the 
inhabitants.  But  this  was  no  obstacle  to  him:  he 
asked  for  no  more  than  a  group  of  hearers  in  every 
place,  and  by  the  time  that  night  came  he  found 
that  he  had  preached  to  thousands  since  sunrise. 
Beginning  sometimes  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  would  preach  on  the  outskirts  of  a  village 
and  hold  a  second  service  before  breakfasting  six 
miles  away.  It  was  nothing  for  him  to  preach 
half  a  dozen  times  and  ride  thirty  miles  in  one  of 
these  days. 

But  as  he  went  further  and  further  on  this  won- 
derful itinerary  of  his,  that  sense  of  loneliness  of 
which  he  had  become  aware  at  Porthawn  seemed  to 
grow  upon  him.  During  those  intervals  of  silence 
which  he  spent  on  horseback,  his  feeling  of  loneli- 
ness appeared  to  increase,  until  at  last  there  came 
upon  him  a  dread  lest  he  should  affect  his  labours. 
He  had  a^fear  that  a  despondent  note  might  find  ite 


THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED        99 

way  into  his  preaching,  and  when  under  such  an 
influence  he  made  a  strong  effort  in  the  opposite 
direction,  he  was  conscious  of  an  artificial  note; 
and,  moreover,  by  the  true  instinct  of  the  man  who 
talks  to  men,  he  was  conscious  that  it  was  detected 
by  his  hearers. 

He  was  disappointed  in  himself — humiliated. 
How  was  it  that  for  years  he  had  been  able  to 
throw  off  this  feeling  of  walking  alone,  through  the 
world,  or  making  no  effort  to  throw  it  off,  to  glory 
in  it,  as  it  were — to  feel  all  the  stronger  because  of 
it,  inasmuch  as  it  could  not  come  without  bringing 
with  it  the  reflection  that  he — he  alone — had  been 
chosen  to  deliver  the  message  to  the  multitudes — 
the  message  of  Light  to  the  people  that  walked  in 
darkness? 

He  could  not  understand  how  the  change  had 
come  about  in  him,  and  not  being  able  to  under- 
stand it,  he  felt  the  more  humiliated. 

And  then,  one  day,  riding  slowly  along  the  coach 
road,  he  saw  a  young  woman  standing  waiting  for 
a  change  of  horses  for  her  post  chaise  at  the  door 
of  a  small  inn. 

He  started,  for  she  had  fair  hair  and  a  fresh  face 
whose  features  bore  some  resemblance  to  those  of 
Nelly  Polwhele — he  started,  for  there  came  upon 
him,  with  the  force  of  a  revelation,  the  knowledge 
that  this  was  the  companionship  for  which  he  was 
longing — that  unconsciously,  she  had  been  in  his 
thoughts — some  way  at  the  back  of  his  thoughts, 
to  be  sure,  but  still  there — that,  only  since  he  had 
been  her  companion  had  his  need  for  some  sweet 
and  helpful  companionship  become  impressed  upon 
him. 

He  rode  on  to  his  destination  overwhelmed  by  the 
surprise  at  the  result  of  this  glimpse  which  had  been 


100       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

given  to  him  into  the  depths  of  his  own  heart.  The 
effect  seemed  to  him  as  if  with  the  sight  of  that 
stranger — that  young  woman  on  the  roadside — a 
flash  of  lightning  had  come,  showing  him  in  an  in- 
stant what  was  in  the  depths  of  his  heart. 

He  tried  to  bring  himself  to  believe  that  he  was 
mistaken. 

"  Impossible — impossible ! "  he  cried.  "  It  is  im- 
possible that  I  should  be  so  affected — a  village  girl ! 
.  .  .  And  I  did  not  talk  with  her  half  a  dozen  times 
in  all!  ...  Kind,  thoughtful,  with  tact — a  gra- 
cious presence,  a  receptive  mind.  .  .  .  Ah,  it  was 
she  undoubtedly  who  set  me  thinking — who  made 
me  feel  dissatisfied  with  my  isolation,  but  still  .  .  . 
oh,  impossible — impossible !  " 

.  And,  although  a  just  man,  the  thoughts  that  he 
now  believed  himself  to  have  in  regard  to  Nelly 
Polwhele  were  bitter  rather  than  sweet.  He  began 
to  think  that  it  was  too  bold  of  her — almost  im- 
modest— to  make  the  attempt  to  change  the  whole 
course  of  the  life  of  such  a  man  as  he  was.  He  had 
once  courted  the  lonely  life,  believing  it  to  be  the 
only  life  for  such  as  he — the  only  life  that  enabled 
him  to  give  all  his  thoughts — all  his  strength — oh, 
all  his  life — all  his  life — to  the  work  which  had  been 
appointed  for  him  to  do  in  the  world  of  sinners ;  but 
lo!  that  child  had  come  to  him,  and  had  made  him 
feel  that  he  was  not  so  different  from  other  men. 

Under  the  influence  of  his  bitterness,  he  resented 
her  intrusion,  as  it  were.  Pshaw!  the  girl  was 
nothing.  It  was  only  companionship  as  a  senti- 
ment that  he  had  been  longing  for ;  he  had  a  clear 
idea  of  the  companionship  that  he  needed;  but  he 
had  never  thought  of  the  companion.  It  was  a 
mere  trick  of  the  fancy  to  suggest  that,  because  the 
young  woman  had  sent  his  thoughts  into  a  certain 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   101 

groove,  they  must  of  necessity  be  turned  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  young  woman  herself. 

He  soon  found,  however,  that  it  is  one  thing  for 
a  man  to  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  in- 
telligence that  it  would  be  impossible  that  he 
should  set  his  heart  on  a  particular  young  woman, 
but  quite  another  to  shut  her  out  from  his  heart. 
He  had  his  heart  to  reckon  with,  though  he  did  not 
know  it. 

Before  the  day  had  passed  he  had  shut  the  doors 
of  his  heart,  and  he  believed  that  he  had  done  right. 
He  did  not  know  that  he  had  shut  those  doors,  not 
against  her,  but  upon  her. 

Like  all  men  who  have  accomplished  great  things 
in  the  world,  he  was  intensely  human.  His  sym- 
pathy flowed  forth  for  his  fellow-men  in  all  cir- 
cumstances of  life.  But  he  did  not  know  himself 
sufficiently  well  to  understand  that  what  he  thought 
of  with  regret  as  his  weaknesses,  were  actually 
those  elements  wherein  lay  the  secret  of  his  influ- 
ence with  men. 

He  had  just  succeeded,  he  fancied,  in  convinc- 
ing himself  that  it  was  impossible  he  could  ever 
have  entertained  a  thought  of  Nelly  Polwhele  as 
the  one  who  could  afford  him  the  companionship 
which  he  craved,  when  a  letter  came  to  him  from 
Mr.  Hartwell,  whom  he  had  appointed  the  leader 
of  the  class  which  he  had  established  at  Porthawn, 
entreating  him  to  return  to  them,  as  they  were  in 
great  distress  and  in  peril  of  falling  to  pieces,  owing 
to  the  conduct  of  one  of  their  members,  Richard 
Pritchard  by  name. 

Could  he  affirm  that  the  sorrow  which  he  felt  on 
receiving  this  news  was  the  sum  of  all  the  emotions 
that  filled  his  heart  at  that  moment? 

He  laid  down  the  letter,  saying, 


102       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"  It  is  the  Lord's  doing." 

And  when  he  said  that,  he  was  thinking,  not  of 
the  distress  in  which  his  children  at  Porthawn 
found  themselves  by  reason  of  Richard  Pritchard, 
but  of  the  meaning  of  the  summons  to  himself. 

"  It  is  the  trial  to  which  my  steadfastness  is  to  be 
put,"  he  said.  "  I  am  not  to  be  allowed  to  escape 
without  scathe.  Why  should  I  expect  to  do  so 
when  others  are  tried  daily?  There  can  be  no  vic- 
tory without  a  battle.  The  strength  of  a  man  is 
developed  by  his  trial.  I  am  ready.  Grant  me 
grace,  O  Lord,  to  sustain  me,  and  to  keep  mj  feet 
from  straying ! " 

He  prepared  himself  for  this  journey  back  to 
Porthawn,  and  he  was  presently  amazed  (having 
been  made  aware  of  his  own  weakness)  to  find 
himself  thinking  very  much  less  about  himself  and 
scarcely  at  all  about  Nelly  Polwhele,  nor  that  the 
chance  of  seeing  her  again  had,  without  the  least 
expectation  on  his  part,  came  to  him.  He  found 
himself  giving  all  his  thoughts  to  the  question  of 
his  duty.  Had  he  been  over-hasty  in  accepting  the 
assurances  of  all  these  people  at  Porthawn  to  whose 
souls  peace  had  come  through  his  preaching?  Was 
he  actuated  solely  by  a  hope  to  spread  abroad  the 
Truth  as  he  had  found  it,  or  had  a  grain  of  the 
tares  of  Self  been  sown  among  the  good  seed?  Had 
there  been  something  of  vanity  in  his  desire  to  in- 
crease the  visible  results  of  his  preaching? 

These  were  his  daily  questionings  and  soul- 
searching,  and  they  had  been  ever  present  with  him 
since  he  had  put  his  hand  to  the  plough.  He  was 
ever  apt  to  accuse  himself  of  vainglory — of  a  lack  of 
that  spirit  of  humility  which  he  felt  should  enter 
into  every  act — every  thought  of  his  life.  He 
thought  of  himself  as  the  instrument  through  which 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED       103 

his  Master  spake  to  His  children.  Should  the  harp 
Taunt  itself  when  a  hand  sweeps  over  its  strings, 
making  such  music  as  forces  those  who  hear  to 
be  joyful  or  sad?  Should  the  trumpet  take  credit 
to  itself  because  through  its  tubes  is  blown  the  blast 
that  sends  an  army  headlong  to  the  charge? 

After  his  first  preaching  in  the  valley  of  the 
Lana,  hundreds  of  those  who  heard  him  had  come 
to  him  making  a  profession  of  the  Faith  that  he 
preached.  He  asked  himself  now  if  it  was  not  pos- 
sible that  he  had  been  too  eager  to  accept  their 
assurance.  He  had  had  his  experiences  of  the  re- 
sult of  the  emotions  of  his  listeners  being  so  stirred 
by  his  preaching  that  they  had  come  to  him  with 
the  same  glad  story ;  but  only  to  become  lukewarm 
after  a  space,  and  after  another  space  to  lapse  into 
their  former  carelessness.  The  parable  of  the 
Sower  was  ever  in  his  mind.  The  quick  upspring- 
ing  of  the  seed  was  a  sign  that  it  had  fallen  where 
there  was  no  depth  of  earth.  And  this  sowing  was 
more  hopeless  than  that  on  stony  ground — than  that 
among  thorns. 

He  feared  that  he  had  been  too  hasty.  He  was  a 
careless  husbandman  who  had  been  too  ready  to 
assume  that  a  plentiful  harvest  was  at  hand,  be- 
cause he  had  sown  where  there  was  no  depth  of 
earth.  He  should  have  waited  and  wratched  and 
noted  every  sign  of  spiritual  growth  before  leaving 
the  field  of  his  labours. 

These  were  some  of  his  self-reproaches  which  oc- 
cupied all  his  thoughts  while  making  his  return 
journey  to  Porthawn,  thus  causing  all  thought  of 
Nelly  Polwhele  to  be  excluded  from  his  mind.  He 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Lana  winding  its  way 
through  the  valley  before  he  had  a  thought  of  her, 
and  then  it  wras  with  some  bitterness  that  he  re- 


104       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

fleeted  that,  all  unknown  to  himself,  he  had  short- 
ened his  stay  in  this  region  because  he  had  had  an 
instinct  that  a  danger  would  threaten  him  if  he 
were  to  remain.  Instinct?  Now  he  was  dealing 
with  a  force  that  was  wholly  animal — wholly  of  the 
flesh,  and  the  flesh,  he  knew,  was  waging  perpetual 
war  with  the  things  that  appertained  to  the  spirit. 

He  urged  his  horse  onward.  Whatever  danger 
might  threaten  himself  by  his  returning  to  this 
region,  he  would  not  shrink  from  it;  wrhat  was  such 
a  danger  compared  with  that  threatening  the  edifice 
of  Faith  which  he  had  hoped  had  been  built  up  in 
the  midst  of  the  simple  people  of  the  land? 

He  urged  his  horse  forward,  and  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  second  day  of  his  journey  he  was  within 
a  few  hours'  journey  of  Ruthallion  Mill.  He 
meant  to  call  at  the  Mill,  feeling  sure  that  he  would 
get  from  the  miller  a  faithful  and  intelligent  ac- 
count of  all  that  had  happened  during  the  three 
weeks  of  his  absence  from  this  neighbourhood. 
Miller  Pendelly,  once  the  champion  of  the  old  sys- 
tem of  lifeless  churchgoing,  had  become  the  zealous 
exponent  of  the  new.  He  was  the  leader  of  the 
little  band  that  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  great  or- 
ganisation of  churchmen  who,  under  the  teaching 
of  Wesley,  sought  to  make  the  Church  the  power 
for  good  among  the  people  that  it  was  meant  to  be. 
Jake  Pullsford,  who  had  spread  the  story  of  Wes- 
ley's aims  among  his  friends  before  the  preacher 
had  appeared  in  Cornwall,  had  given  evidence  of 
the  new  Light  that  had  dawned  upon  him  when  he 
had  heard  Wesley  at  Bristol.  Both  these  were 
steadfast  men,  not  likely  to  cause  offence,  and  if 
Wesley  had  heard  any  report  of  their  falling  short 
of  what  was  expected  of  them  he  would  have  been 
more  than  disappointed. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       105 

It  was  through  Eichard  Pritchard,  the  profes- 
sional water-finder,  that  offence  had  come  or  was 
likely  to  come,  Mr.  Hartwell's  letter  had  told  him. 
He  remembered  the  man  very  clearly.  He  had  had 
some  conversation  with  him,  and  Jake  had  satisfied 
him  as  to  the  sincerity  of  his  belief.  He  had  never 
been  otherwise  than  a  clean-living  man,  and  he  had 
studied  many  theological  works.  But  he  had  not 
impressed  Mr.  Wesley  as  being  a  person  of  unusual 
intelligence.  His  remarkable  calling  and  the  suc- 
cess with  which  he  practised  it  all  through  the 
West  had  caused  him  to  appear  in  the  eyes  of  the 
people  of  the  country  as  one  possessing  certain 
powers  which,  though  quite  legitimate,  being  exer- 
cised for  good,  were  bordering  on  the  supernatural. 
Wesley  now  remembered  that  he  had  had  some 
doubt  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  the  man's  calling.  Be- 
lieving, as  he  did,  so  fully  in  the  powers  of  witch- 
craft, he  had  a  certain  amount  of  uneasiness  in  ac- 
cepting as  a  member  of  the  little  community  which 
he  was  founding,  a  man  who  used  the  divining  rod ; 
but  the  simplicity  of  Pritchard  and  his  exemplary 
character  were  in  his  favour,  so  much  as  to  out- 
weigh the  force  of  Wesley's  objection  to  his  mode 
of  fife. 

Now,  as  he  guided  his  horse  down  the  valley  road, 
he  regretted  bitterly  that  he  had  allowed  his  mis- 
givings to  be  overcome  so  easily.  Like  all  men  who 
have  accomplished  great  things  in  the  world,  the 
difficulties  which  occasionally  beset  him  were  due 
to  his  accepting  the  judgment  of  others,  putting 
aside  his  own  feelings  or  tendencies,  in  certain  mat- 
ters. The  practice  of  the  virtue  of  humility,  in  re- 
gard to  his  estimation  of  the  value  of  his  own  judg- 
ment, had  cost  him  dearly  upon  occasions. 

It  was  all  the  more  vexatious  to  reflect  that  the 


106       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

man  through  whom  the  trouble  (whatever  it  might 
be)  was  impending,  was  the  last  one  in  the  world 
from  whom  any  trouble  might  reasonably  be  looked 
for.  This  was  probably  the  first  time  in  his  life 
that  he  had  reached  any  prominence  in  the  little 
circle  in  which  he  lived.  To  be  allowed  to  remain 
in  the  background ,  seemed  to  be  his  sole  aspiration. 
His  fear  of  giving  offence  to  anyone  seemed  to  be 
ever  present  with  him,  and  his  chief  anxiety  was  to 
anticipate  an  imaginary  offence  by  an  apology. 
How  a  man  who  was  so  ludicrously  invertebrate 
should  become  a  menace  to  the  stability  of  a  com- 
munity that  included  such  robust  men  as  the  miller, 
the  carrier,  and  the  smith,  to  say  nothing  of  Farmer 
Tregenna  and  Mr.  Hartwell,  the  mine  owner,  was 
more  than  Wesley  could  understand.  It  was  this 
element  of  mystery  that  caused  him  to  fear  that 
Pritchard  had  all  along  been  an  agent  of  the  Enemy 
— that  his  noted  successes  with  the  divining  rod 
were  due  to  his  connection  with  the  Powers  of 
Darkness,  and  that  his  getting  within  the  fold  of 
the  faithful  was,  after  all,  only  what  might  have 
been  expected  from  one  whose  tactics  were  devised 
for  him  by  the  Old  Serpent — the  origin  of  every 
evil  since  the  expulsion  from  Paradise. 


CHAPTER   X 

HE  spent  an  hour  at  the  Old  Waggoner  Inn  at 
the  corner  of  the  River  Road,  and  while  his  horse 
was  getting  a  feed  in  the  stable  he  had  some  bread 
and  cheese  in  the  inn  parlour — a  large  room  built 
to  accommodate  the  hungry  coach  passengers,  who, 
accustomed  to  break  their  journey  to  or  from  Ply- 
mouth, were  at  this  house. 

The  room  was  not  crowded  when  he  arrived,  but 
in  the  course  of  the  next  half-hour  two  additional 
parties  entered,  and  while  tankards  were  filled  and 
emptied,  and  pewter  platters  of  underdone  beef 
laden  with  pickles  were  passed  round,  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  loud  talk,  with  laughter  and  an  inter- 
change of  friendly,  if  rude,  humour.  Wesley  had 
had  a  sufficient  experience  of  inn  parlours  to  pre- 
vent his  being  greatly  interested  by  the  people  here 
or  their  loud  chat. 

This  was  only  at  first,  however,  for  it  soon  be- 
came clear  to  him  that  the  conversation  and  the 
jests  were  flowing  in  one  channel.  Then  he  be- 
came interested. 

"  Come    hither,    friend    Thomas,    and    pay 
scores,"    cried    one    jovial    young    fellow    to 
elderly  stout  farmer  who  had  been  standing  in 
the  bar. 

"  Not  me,  lad,"  cried  the  farmer.  "  By  the 
Lord  Harry,  you've  the  '  impidence ' !  " 

"  What,  man,  pay  and  look  joyous.  What  will 
all  your  hoard  of  guineas  be  to  you  after  Mon- 
day? "  cried  the  younger  man. 

107 


"  'Twill  be  worth  twenty-one  shillings  for  every 
guinea,  if  you  must  know,"  replied  the  farmer. 

"  Nay,  sir,  you  know  well  that  there  will  be  no 
use  for  your  guineas  at  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
which,  as  surely  as  Dick  Pritchard  is  a  prophet, 
will  happen  on  Monday,"  said  the  other. 

"  I'm  ready  to  run  the  chance,  i'  the  face  o'  the 
Prophet  Pritchard,"  said  the  farmer.  "  Ay,  and  to 
show  what's  in  me,  I  am  ready  'twixt  now  and  Sun- 
day to  buy  any  property  at  a  reasonable  discount 
rate  that  any  believer  in  Dick  Pritchard  may  wish 
to  sell." 

"  Good  for  you,  farmer — good  for  you !  "  shouted 
a  dozen  voices,  with  the  applause  of  rattling  pewters 
on  the  table. 

"  Let  Dick  stick  to  his  trade — water  and  not  fire 
is  his  quality;  he'd  best  leave  the  Day  of  Judgment 
in  subtler  hands,"  growled  a  small,  red-faced  man, 
who  was  cooling  himself  this  Summer  day  with 
Jamaica  rum. 

There  was  some  more  laughter,  but  it  was  not  of 
a  hearty  sort ;  there  was  a  forced  gaiety  in  it  that 
Wesley  easily  detected. 

"  By  my  troth,  the  fellow's  prophecy  hath  done  a 
good  turn  to  the  maltster;  there  hath  been  more 
swilling,  hot  and  cold,  since  he  spoke  a  week  ago 
yesterday,  than  in  any  month  of  ordinary  calm 
weather,  without  a  sniff  of  brimstone  in  it,"  said 
Mr.  Hone,  the  surgeon  of  the  revenue  men,  who 
was  in  the  act  of  facing  a  huge  beef-steak  with 
onions  and  a  potato  baked  with  a  sauce  of  tansy. 

"  Small  blame  to  the  drouthy  ones ;  they  know  full 
well  that  by  this  day  week  they  will  be  ready  to  pay 
Plymouth  prices  for  a  mugful  o'  something  cool- 
ing," remarked  a  traveller. 

"  Gentlemen  and  friends,  all,  I  make  bold  enough 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       109 

to  affirm  that  this  matter  is  too  grave  an  one  to  be 
jested  on  or  to  be  scoffed  at,"  said  a  tall,  pale-faced 
young  man.  "  I  tell  you,  sirs,  that  there  may  be 
more  in  this  thing  than  some  of  us  suspect." 

"  What,  Mr.  Tilley,  are  you  feeble  enough  to  be- 
lieve that  an  event  of  such  considerable  importance 
to  the  Government  as  the  Day  of  Judgment  would 
be  announced  through  such  an  agent?  This  Dick 
Pritchard  is  a  common  man,  as  full  of  ignorance  as 
a  young  widow  is  of  tricks,"  said  the  surgeon,  look- 
ing up  from  his  plate. 

"Ignorant?  ay,  doubtless,  Mr.  Hone;  but  how 
many  ignorant  men  have  yet  won  an  honourable 
place  in  the  book  of  the  prophets,  sir?  "  asked  the 
young  man.  "  Seems  to  any  natural  man,  sir,  that 
ignorance,  as  we  call  ignorance,  was  the  main 
quality  needful  for  an  ancient  old  prophet  that 
spake  as  he  was  moved." 

"  That  was  in  the  Antique  Dispensation,  Mr.  Til- 
ley;  you  must  not  forget  that,  sir,"  cried  the 
surgeon. 

"  Ay,  that's  sure;  'Ms  a  different  age  this  that  we 
live  in,"  said  an  acquiescent  voice  behind  the 
shelter  of  a  settle. 

"  I'd  as  lief  credit  a  Christian  as  a  Jew  in  such 
a  matter :  the  Jews  seem  to  have  had  this  business 
of  prophecy  as  exclusive  in  their  hands  as  they  have 
the  trade  of  money  now,"  said  the  traveller.  "  The 
Jewish  seers  busied  themselves  a  good  deal  about 
the  Day  of  Judgment,  why  should  not  a  humble 
Christian  be  permitted  a  trifle  of  traffic  on  the 
same  question,  since  it  is  one  that  should  be  of 
vital  interest  to  all — especially  innkeepers  in  hot 
weather?  " 

There  was  only  a  shred  of  laughter  when  he  had 
spoken.  It  was  clear  that  in  spite  of  some  of  the 


110       THE    LOVE   THAT   PKEVAILED 

jeers  against  the  water-finder  that  had  taken  place 
in  the  room,  there  was  a  feeling  that  whatever  he 
had  taken  it  upon  him  to  say — it  seemed  to  Wesley 
that  it  had  reference  to  the  Day  of  Judgment  on 
the  next  Monday — should  not  be  treated  with 
levity.  The  jocular  tone  of  a  few  men  who  were 
present  was  distinctly  forced.  Upon  several  faces 
Wesley  perceived  an  expression  that  reminded  him 
of  that  upon  the  faces  of  some  of  the  prisoners  un- 
der sentence  of  death  whom  he  had  visited  in  his 
young  days  at  Oxford. 

"  Say  what  you  will,  gentlemen,"  resumed  the 
young  man  called  Tilley,  "  this  Dick  Pritchard  is 
no  ordinary  man.  I  have  seen  him  at  work  with  his 
wizard's  wand,  and  inside  five  minutes  o'  the  clock 
he  had  shown  us  where  to  bore  for  water  in  a 
meadow  slope  that  was  as  deeply  pitted  before  with 
borings  as  if  it  had  an  attack  of  smallpox.  Ay, 
sirs,  a  hole  had  been  dug  here  and  another  there— 
and  there — -and  there — '  he  indicated  with  his 
finger  on  the  floor  the  locality  of  the  diggings  to 
which  he  referred — "  but  not  a  spoonful  of  water 
appeared.  Then  in  comes  our  gentleman  with  a 
sliver  of  willow  between  his  palms,  and  walks  over 
the  ground.  I  was  nigh  to  him,  and  I  affirm  that 
I  saw  the  twig  twist  itself  like  a  snake  between  his 
fingers,  jerking  its  tip,  for  all  the  world  like  the 
,stumpy  head  of  an  adder,  first  in  one  direction,  anon 
in  another — I'll  swear  that  it  turned,  wicked  as  any 
snake,  upon  Dick  himself  at  one  time,  so  that  he 
jerked  his  hands  back  and  the  thing  fell  on  the 
grass,  and  if  it  did  not  give  a  kind  of  writhe  there, 
my  eyes  played  me  false.  But  he  picked  it  up  again 
and  walked  slowly  across  the  ground,  not  shun- 
ning  in  the  least  ,as  an  .ordinary  man  would  have 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   111 

done,  if  he  had  his  wits  about  him,  the  parts  that 
showed  the  former  borings  that  had  come  to  naught. 
'Twas  in  full  boldness,  just  between  two  of  the  old 
holes,  that  he  stopped  short,  and  says  he,  ( There's 
your  spring,  and  'tis  not  six  foot  from  the  surface. 
I'll  wait  to  have  a  mugful,  if  I  don't  make  too  bold/ 
says  he,  l  for  'tis  strangely  drying  wrork,  this  water- 
finding.'  And  by  my  faith,  sirs,  the  fellow  had  a 
pitcher  of  the  softest  spring  water  from  that  spot 
before  an  hour  had  gone  and  the  rude  scum  of  the 
field  had  been  rinsed  away." 

The  silence  that  followed  the  man's  story  was 
impressive.  It  seemed  as  if  the  cloud  which  had 
been  overhanging  the  company  had  become  visible. 
No  man  so  much  as  glanced  at  his  neighbour,  but 
every  one  of  them  stopped  eating  or  drinking  at 
that  moment,  and  stared  gloomily  straight  in  front 
of  him.  Only  one  man,  however,  uttered  a  groan. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  on  us ! — the  rocks  and  the 
mountains — the  great  and  terrible  day  of  the 
Lord !  "  he  murmured. 

Then  it  was  that  a  couple  of  men  passed  their 
hands  over  their  foreheads. 

"  I  would  sooner  see  my  cattle  die  of  drouth  than 
call  in  a  water-finder,"  said  the  farmer.  "  I've  oft- 
times  said  that  he  has  a  partner  in  his  trade.  In 
my  young  days  a  water-finder  was  burnt  at  the 
stake,  for  'twas  clearly  proven  that  he  was  in  league 
with  the  Fiend :  after  drinking  o'  the  water  that  he 
drew  from  the  bowels  o'  th'  earth  the  husbandman's 
son  was  seized  wi'  a  fit  and  down  he  fell  like  a  log 
and  was  only  saved  by  the  chance  of  the  curate 
passing  near  the  farm.  Though  but  a  young  man, 
he  saw  at  once  that  the  boy  had  been  tampered 
with.  'Twas  by  good  luck  that  he  had  with  him 


a  snuffbox  made  of  the  cedar  wood  of  Lebanon  at 
Jerusalem,  where  King  Solomon  built  his  temple, 
and  'tis  well  known  that  neither  witch  nor  warlock 
can  stand  against  such.  Before  you  could  say 
'Worm,'  the  young  parson  had  made  a  circle  o' 
snuff  around  the  poor  victim,  and  with  a  deadly 
screech  the  fiend  forsook  the  boy  and  'twas  said 
that  it  entered  into  a  young  heifer  of  promise,  for 
she  went  tearing  out  of  her  byre  that  same  night 
and  was  found  all  over  a  lather  wandering  on  Dip- 
stone  Sands  in  the  morning.  Ay,  they  burnt  the 
water-finder  at  the  next  'Sizes,  the  testimony  being 
so  clear  as  I  say." 

"  'Tis  time  they  burnt  Dick  Pritchard,"  said 
someone  else  in  a  low  voice.  "  Though  I'm  not 
sure  that  'tis  in  the  Book  that  mere  water-finding  is 
heinous." 

"  Maybe  not,  but  sure  a  proof  o'  the  gift  o' 
prophecy  is  burnable  in  the  New  Dispensation," 
suggested  another. 

A  big  man  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face  was  pale 
and  his  hands  were  nervous.  He  clapped  his  palms 
together. 

"  Every  man  in  the  room  has  a  tankard  with  me," 
he  cried.  "  I'll  pay  the  score  for  all.  What  use 
is  the  blunt  to  me  after  Monday?  But  now  is  our 
time,  lads.  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
die!" 

The  sentiment  was  greeted  with  a  loud  and  harsh 
laugh  by  some  men,  but  by  a  serious  shake  of  the 
head  by  ethers.  A  young  man  started  a  ribald 
song. 

"  Shame,  sir,  shame,  a  parson's  present  in  the 
room,"  cried  an  elderly  man,  who  was  seated  near 
Wesley. 

The  lilt  was  interrupted,  and  two  or  three  fingers 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       113 

were  pointed  toward  Wesley,  who  was  half  hidden 
from  most  of  the  people  in  the  room.  Now  he 
stood  up  and  faced  them  all. 

"Hey,  'tis  Wesley  the  preacher  himself!"  cried 
the  surgeon,  and  expressions  of  surprise  were  ut- 
tered in  various  directions. 

"  You  have  come  in  good  time  to  superintend  the 
winding  up  of  the  world,  Mr.  Wesley.  Nay,  don't 
be  over  modest ;  'tis  one  of  your  own  children  hath 
said  it,"  said  another.  "  What,  sir ;  would  you  dis- 
own your  own  offspring?  " 

Wesley  had  held  up  his  hand  twice  while  the  man 
was  speaking. 

"  Friends,  I  am  John  Wesley,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
come  sixty  miles  and  better,  having  heard  from 
Mr.  Hartwell  that  I  was  needed  in  regard  to  this 
same  Pritchard,  but  having  been  made  acquainted 
with  no  points  of  detail.  Sirs,  since  I  entered  this 
room  I  have,  I  believe,  learned  all  that  Mr.  Hart- 
well  forbore  to  tell  me,  and  now  I  hasten  to  give 
you  my  assurance  that  I  cannot  countenance  aught 
that  this  man  Pritchard  said.  I  deplore  most 
heartily  that  he  should  be  so  far  misled  as  to  take 
upon  him  to  utter  a  statement  of  prophecy  touching 
the  most  awful  event  that  our  faith  as  believers 
takes  a  count  of.  Brethren,  we  are  told  that  we 
know  not  the  day  nor  the  hour  when  that  dread 
shall  fall  upon  the  world.  That  is  the  written 
Word  of  the  Most  High,  and  any  man  who,  whether 
under  the  impulse  of  vanity  or  in  the  sincere  belief 
that  he  possesses  the  gift  of  prophecy,  is  presump- 
tuous, is  likely  to  become  a  stumbling  block  and  a 
rock  of  offence.  That  is  all  that  I  have  to  say  at 
this  time.  I  have  said  so  much  in  the  hope  that 
all  who  hear  me  will  refrain  from  attributing  to  the 
influence  of  my  preaching  or  teaching  an  act  or  a 


114       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

statement  which  I  and  my  associates  repudiate  and 
condemn." 

He  inclined  his  head  slowly,  and  then,  picking  up 
his  hat,  left  the  room.  But  before  he  reached  the 
door  every  man  in  the  room  had  risen  respectfully, 
though  no  word  was  spoken  by  anyone  present. 
Even  after  his  departure  there  was  a  silence  that 
lasted  for  several  minutes.  Everyone  seemed  to 
have  drawn  a  long  breath  as  of  relief. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  think  you  may  breathe  freely 
once  more:  the  world  will  last  over  Monday  after 
all,"  said  the  surgeon. 

"Ay,  the  master  has  spoken  and  disowned  his 
pupil,"  said  another. 

"  Maybe  that's  because  he  feels  chagrined  that 
he  lost  the  chance  that  Dick  Pritchard  grappled 
with,"  suggested  the  pale  youth. 

"  Boy,"  said  the  traveller,  with  a  contemptuous 
wave  of  the  hand.  "  Boy,  Mr.  Wesley  is  a  man  of 
learning  and  a  man  of  parts,  not  a  charlatan  in  a 
booth  at  a  fair." 

"  Or  one  with  the  duck's  instinct  of  seeking  for 
water  with  a  quack — ay,  a  quack  with  a  quack," 
said  the  surgeon. 

"  Well,  if  the  world  is  not  to  expire  on  Monday, 
we  would  do  well  to  drink  her  health,  so  hey  for  a 
gallon  of  old  ale  so  far  as  it  goes,"  cried  the  man 
with  the  shaking  head. 

The  opinion  seemed  to  be  all  but  general  that 
some  sign  of  hilarity  would  not  now  be  so  much  out 
of  place  as  it  seemed  to  be  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
earlier,  and  the  landlord  was  zealous  in  support  of 
this  view.  He  promised  them  a  tipple  worthy  of 
the  name,  even  if  the  world  were  to  break  up  in  a 
day  or  two! 

But  long  before  the  company  were  satisfied  Wes- 


ley  was  on  his  horse  riding  slowly  down  to  Ruthal- 
lion  Mill.  He  felt  deeply  pained  by  his  experience 
in  the  inn  parlour.  So  this  was  what  Mr.  Hart- 
well  had  hinted  at  in  his  letter — this  assumption  of 
the  divine  gift  of  the  prophet  by  Pritchard.  And 
the  subject  of  his  prophecy  was  one  that  every  char- 
latan who  had  existed  had  made  his  own !  He  him- 
self could  remember  more  than  one  such  prediction 
being  made  by  men  who  were  both  ignorant  and 
vain.  One  of  them  had  afterwards  stood  in  the 
pillory  and  another — the  more  sincere — had  gone 
to  a  mad-house.  It  seemed  to  him  strange  that  they 
should  have  had  a  following,  but  beyond  a  doubt 
their  prediction  had  been  widely  credited,  and  the 
men  themselves  had  achieved  a  notoriety  which  was 
to  them  the  equivalent  to  fame.  They  had  had 
their  followers  even  after  the  date  which  they 
named  in  their  prophecies  had  gone  by  without  any 
disaster  to  the  world.  It  seemed  that  the  people 
were  so  glad  at  escaping  that  they  had  no  room  in 
their  thoughts  for  any  reproach  for  the  false 
prophet. 

He  knew,  however,  that  in  the  case  of  Richard 
Pritchard ,  the  same  leniency  would  not  be  shown. 
He  knew  that  his  own  detractors — and  they  were 
many  who  regarded  his  innovations  as  a  direct 
menace  to  the  Church — would  only  be  too  glad  of 
the  chance  which  was  now  offered  to  them  of  ridi- 
culing him  and  his  out-of-doors  preaching,  pointing 
out,  as  they  most  certainly  would,  that  Richard 
Pritchard  represented  the  first  fruit  of  his  preach- 
ing, and  that  his  assumption  of  the  authority  of  a 
prophet  was  the  first  fruit  of  his  Methodism. 

But  it  was  not  only  by  reason  of  the  possible  in- 
jury that  would  be  done  to  the  movement  which  he 
had  inaugurated  in  Cornwall  that  he  was  vexed. 


116       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

He  had  been  greatly  pained  to  observe  the  spirit 
in  which  the  most  awful  incident  on  which  the  mind 
of  man  could  dwell  was  referred  to  by  the  men  in 
the  inn  parlour — men  fairly  representative  of  the 
people  of  the  neighbourhood.  The  Day  of  Wrath 
had  been  alluded  to  with  levity  by  some,  in  a  spirit 
of  ridicule  by  others;  wrhile  one  man  had  made  it 
the  subject  of  a  wager,  and  another  had  made  it  an 
excuse  for  drunkenness! 

He  was  grieved  and  shocked  to  reflect  that  it  was 
Pritchard's  connection  with  his  mission  that  had 
produced  this  state  of  things.  He  felt  certain  that 
if  the  man  had  remained  outside  the  newly  founded 
organisation,  he  would  not  have  taken  it  upon  him- 
self to  speak  as  a  prophet. 

But  he  felt  that  he  could  not  lay  the  blame  for 
what  had  occurred  at  the  door  of  anyone  whom  he 
had  appointed  to  help  him  in  his  work,  and  who  had 
adranced  the  claims  of  Pritchard,  for  who  could 
hare  foreseen  that  a  man  who  seemed  abnormally 
modest  and  retiring  by  nature  should  develop  such 
a  spirit?  Beyond  a  doubt  the  man's  weak  head  had 
been  turned.  He  had  become  possessed  of  a  crav- 
ing after  notoriety,  and  now  that  he  had  achiered 
it,  he  would  be  a  very  difficult  person  to  deal  with. 
This  Wesley  perceived  when  he  began  to  consider 
how  to  deal  with  the  source  of  the  affair. 

The  most  difficult  point  in  this  connection  was 
his  feeling  that  the  man  was  quite  sincere  in  his 
belief  that  upon  him  the  spirit  of  prophecy  had 
descended.  He  felt  sure  that  the  man  was  unaware 
of  the  existence  of  any  motive  in  his  own  heart 
apart  from  the  desire  to  utter  a  warning  and  a  call 
to  repentance  to  the  people  of  the  world,  as  Jonah 
the  prophet  had  done  to  the  people  of  Nineveh. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       117 

That  fact,  Wesley  perceived,  made  it  a  matter  of 
great  difficulty  both  to  silence  Pritchard  and  to 
hold  him  up  as  a  charlatan. 

He  was  indeed  greatly  perplexed  in  mind  as  he 
rode  down  the  valley  path  leading  to  the  Milk 


CHAPTER    XI 

WESLEY  could  not,  of  course,  know  that  Pritch- 
ard  was  at  that  time  in  the  Mill  awaiting  his  ar- 
rival. But  it  was  the  case  that  the  water-finder, 
learning  that  the  coming  of  Mr.  Wesley  was  looked 
for  during  the  afternoon,  had  gone  to  the  Mill  early 
and  had  rejected  the  suggestion  made  by  the  black- 
smith and  Jake  Pullsford,  that  he  should  not 
appear  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Wesley  until  he  was 
sent  for.  He  was  almost  indignant  at  the  hint  con- 
veyed to  him  in  an  ambiguous  way  by  Hal  Holmes, 
that  it  would  show  better  taste  if  he  were  to  remain 
away  for  the  time  being. 

"  Take  my  word  for't,  Dick,  you'll  be  brought 
face  to  face  with  him  soon  enow,"  said  Hal.  "  You'll 
be  wishful  that  you  had  ne'er  been  born  or  thought 
of.  Mr.  Wesley  is  meek,  but  he  isn't  weak,  and  'tis 
the  meek  ones  that's  the  hardest  to  answer  when  the 
time  comes,  and  it  always  comes  too  soon.  Before 
your  Monday  comes  you'll  be  wishful  to  hide  away 
and  calling  on  the  mountains  to  cover  ye." 

"  List  to  me,  Hal ;  there's  naught  that  will  say 
nay  to  me  when  my  mind  is  made  up,  and  go  to  face 
Mr.  Wesley  I  shall,"  Dick  had  replied. 

The  blacksmith  folded  his  big  bare  arms  and 
looked  at  him  with  curiosity  from  head  to  foot. 

"  A  change  has  come  o'er  a  good  many  of  us  since 
Mr.  Wesley  began  to  preach,  but  what's  all  our 
changes  alongside  yours,  Dick  Pritchard?  "  he  said, 
shaking  his  head  as  though  he  relinquished  this 
task  of  solving  the  problem  which  had  been  sug- 

118 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   119 

gested  to  him.  "Why,  you  was  used  to  fear  and 
tremble  at  the  thin  noise  of  your  own  voice,  Dick 
Pritchard.  With  these  ears  I  have  heard  you  make 
an  apology  for  saying  '  Thank  ye,'  on  the  score  that 
you  were  too  bold.  But  now  you  are  for  rushing 
headlong  to  meet  the  man  that  you  scarce  dare  lift 
your  hat  to  a  month  or  two  agone." 

"  I  hadn't  learned  then  all  that  there's  in  me 
now,  Hal,"  replied  the  water-finder.  "  I  always  did 
despise  myself,  being  unmindful  that  to  despise  my- 
self was  to  do  despite  to  Heaven.  Doesn't  it  stand 
to  reason,  Hal,  that  the  greater  a  man  thinks  him- 
self, the  greater  is  the  honour  he  does  to  his  Maker? 
I  think  twice  as  much  of  God  since  I  came  to  see 
what  a  man  He  made  in  me." 

"  That's  a  square  apology  for  conceit,  Dick,  and 
I  don't  think  aught  the  better  of  you  for  putting 
it  forward  at  this  time  and  in  such  a  case  as  this. 
What,  good  fellow,  would  you  be  at  the  pains  to 
magnify  a  man's  righteousness  pace  for  pace  with 
his  conceit?  At  that  rate,  the  greater  the  coxcomb 
the  more  righteous  the  man." 

Dick  was  apparently  lost  in  thought  for  some 
time.  At  last  he  shook  his  head  gravely,  saying: 

"  Not  for  all  cases,  Hal,  not  for  all  cases.  You 
be  a  narrow-souled  caviller,  I  doubt;  you  cannot 
comprehend  an  argyment  that's  like  a  crystal  dia- 
mond, with  as  many  sides  to  it  as  a  middling  igno- 
rant man  would  fail  to  compute." 

"  That  may  be,  but  I've  handled  many  a  lump  of 
sea-coal  that  has  shown  as  many  sides  as  any 
diamond  that  was  ever  dug  out  of  the  earth,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  your  talk  is  more  like  the  sea-coal 
than  the  crystal,  Dick,  my  friend,"  said  the  black- 
smith. "  Ay,  your  many-sided  argyments  are  only 
fit  to  be  thrust  into  the  furnace,  for  all  their  sides." 


120       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"  Mr.  Wesley  will  comprehend/'  said  Pritchard 
doggedly ;  "  though  even  Mr.  Wesley  might  learn 
something  from  me.  Ay,  and  in  after  years  you 
will  all  be  glad  to  remember  that  you  once  dwelt 
nigh  a  simple  man  by  name  Richard  Pritchard." 

"In  after  years?"  cried  Hal  Holmes.  "Why, 
where  are  your  after  years  to  come  from,  if  the  end 
of  all  things  is  to  be  on  us  on  Monday?" 

"  Don't  you  doubt  but  that  'twill  come  to  an  end 
on  Monday,"  said  the  water-finder,  "  however  you 
may  twist  and  turn.  Be  sure  that  you  be  prepared, 
Hal  Holmes.  You  have  been  a  vain-living  black- 
smith, I  am  feared,  and  now  you  side  with  them 
that  would  persecute  the  prophets.  Prepare  your- 
self, Hal,  prepare  yourself." 

This  was  the  style  in  which  the  man  had  been 
talking  for  some  time,  astonishing  everyone  who 
had  known  his  extreme  modesty  in  the  past;  and 
this  was  the  strain  in  which  he  talked  when  he  had 
entered  the  Mill,  and  found  the  miller,  Jake  Pulls- 
ford  and  Mr.  Hartwell  seated  together  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  Wesley. 

The  man's  entrance  at  this  time  surprised  them. 
They  knew  he  was  aware  that  Mr.  Wesley  was  re- 
turning in  haste,  owing  solely  to  his,  Pritchard's, 
having  put  himself  forward  in  a  way  that  his 
brethren  could  not  sanction,  and  it  never  occurred 
to  them  that  he  would  wish  to  meet  Mr.  Wesley  at 
this  time.  They  were,  as  was  Hal  Holmes,  under 
the  impression  that  when  Wesley  arrived  Pritch- 
ard's former  character  might  show  itself  once  more, 
causing  him  to  avoid  even  the  possibility  of  meet- 
ing the  preacher  face  to  face. 

They  were  soon  undeceived.  The  water-finder 
was  in  no  way  nervous  when  he  came  among 
them. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       121 

When  he  had  in  some  measure  recovered  from 
his  surprise,  the  miller  said : 

"  We  looked  not  for  thy  coming  so  soon,  Dick, 
but  maybe  'tis  as  well  that  thou'rt  here." 

"  How  could  I  be  away  from  here  unless  I  had 
hastened  to  meet  Mr.  Wesley  on  his  way  hither?" 
said  Pritchard.  "  I  have  been  trembling  with  de- 
sire to  have  his  ear  for  the  past  week.  It  is  laid  on 
me  to  exhort  him  on  some  matters  that  he  neglected. 
These  matters  can  be  neglected  no  longer." 

The  miller  looked  at  Jake  Pullsford,  and  the  lat- 
ter sat  aghast.  He  was  so  astounded  that  he  could 
only  stare  at  Pritchard,  with  his  hands  on  his  knees 
and  his  head  in  its  usual  poise,  craning  forward. 
Some  moments  had  passed  before  he  succeeded  in 
gasping  out,  after  one  or  two  false  starts: 

"  You — you — you — Dick  Pritchard — you  talk  of 
exhorting  Mr.  Wesley?  Oh,  poor  fellow!  poor 
fellow!  Now,  indeed,  we  know  that  you  are 
mad ! " 

"  Mr.  Weslej  should  ha'  found  out  the  gift  that 
is  mine,"  said  Pritchard,  quite  ignoring  the  some- 
what frank  utterance  of  the  carrier.  "  I  suspected 
myself  during  several  months  of  having  that  great 
gift  of  prophecy.  'Twas  no  more  than  a  suspicion 
for  some  time,  and  I  dare  not  speak  before  I  was 
sure." 

"And  what  made  thee  sure,  Dick?"  asked  the 
miller. 

"  'Twas  reading  how  the  great  prophet,  Moses, 
made  water  flow  from  the  rock,"  replied  Pritchard. 
"  '  What,'  said  I  to  my  own  self.  i  What,  Richard 
Pritchard,  hath  not  all  thy  life  been  spent  in  per- 
forming that  great  miracle  of  Moses,  and  hast  not 
known  the  greatness  of  thy  gift? '  And  then  I 
made  search  and  found  that  water-finding  has  been 


122       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

the  employment  of  most  of  the  great  prophets,  Eli- 
jah being  the  foremost.  Like  to  a  flash  from  a  far- 
off  cannon  gun,  that  reaches  the  eyes  before  ever  the 
sound  of  the  boom  comes  upon  the  ear,  the  truth 
was  revealed  to  me.  I  knew  then  that  the  gift  of 
the  Tishbite  was  mine." 

It  was  Jake  Pullsford  who  now  looked  at  the 
miller.  The  miller  shook  his  head. 

"  'Twould  not  matter  much  what  you  thought  of 
yourself,  Dick,"  said  the  miller,  "  if  only  you  had 
not  been  admitted  to  our  fellowship ;  but  things  be- 
ing as  they  be " 

He  shook  his  head  again. 

"  What  overcomes  me  is  the  thought  of  thy  former 
habit  of  life,  Dick,"  said  the  carrier.  "  Why,  up  to 
a  month  agone,  a  man  more  modest,  shy  and  tame 
speaking,  wasn't  to  be  found  in  all  the  West  Coun- 
try. Why,  man,  I've  seen  thee  sweat  at  the  sound 
of  thine  own  voice,  like  as  if  thou  hadst  been  a  thief 
a-hearing  o'  the  step  of  an  officer!  Meek!  Meek  is 
no  name  for  it!  I  give  thee  my  word  that  it  oft 
made  me  think  shame  of  all  manhood  in  the  world 
to  hear  thee  make  apology  for  a  plain  truth  that, 
after  all,  thou  wast  too  bashful  to  utter! " 

"  You  could  not  see  my  heart,  Miller,"  said 
Pritchard.  "'Twas  only  that  I  was  humble  in 
voice;  I  know  now  that  in  spirit  I  was  puffed  up 
with  pride,  so  that  I  could  hardly  contain  myself. 
But  even  after  the  truth  came  upon  me  in  that  flash, 
I  was  ready  to  treat  the  likes  of  you,  Miller — ay, 
even  the  likes  of  thee,  Jake  Pullsford,  as  mine 
equal,  so  affable  a  heart  had  I  by  birth." 

"  You  promoted  yourself  a  bit,  Dick,"  remarked 
the  miller.  "  But  I've  always  observed  that  when 
a  man  tells  another  in  that  affable  way  that  he  re- 
gards the  other  as  his  equal,  he  fancies  in  the  in- 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PKEYAILED   123 

wardness  of  his  heart  that  he  is  far  above  the  one 
he  gives  such  an  assurance  to." 

"  I  feel  a  sort  of  light  of  knowledge  within  me 
ready  to  break  forth  and  tell  me  a  wonderful  reply 
to  that  remark  of  yours,  Miller,"  said  Pritchard. 
"  Tarry  a  Avhile,  and  give  me  time  for  the  light  to 
break  forth  with  fulness,  and  you'll  be  rewarded; 
friends,  you  will  hear  a  reply  that  will  make  you 
all  stand  back  in  amaze,  and  marvel,  as  I  have  done, 
how  noble  a  thing  is  the  gift  of  speech — saying  a 
phrase  or  two  that  makes  the  flesh  of  man  tingle. 
All  I  ask  is  time.  It  may  not  come  to  me  within 
the  hour,  but " 

"  Here's  one  that  hath  come  to  thee,  my  man, 
and  he  will  listen  to  all  you  have  to  say :  I  hear  the 
sound  of  his  horse  on  the  lane,"  cried  the  miller. 

Jake  Pullsford  sprang  from  the  settle,  and 
strained  himself  to  look  out  of  the  window. 

"  Right;  'tis  Mr.  Wesley,  in  very  deed,"  he  said. 

"  That's  as  should  be,"  cried  Pritchard,  with  an 
air  of  satisfaction  that  made  the  others  feel  the 
more  astonished. 

And  when  Wesley  had  entered  and  greeted  his 
friends,  including  the  water-finder,  they  were  a 
good  deal  more  astonished  at  the  attitude  taken  by 
Pritchard.  Without  wasting  time  over  prelimina- 
ries, he  assumed  that  Wesley  had  come  to  the  Mill 
in  order  not  to  admonish  him,  but  to  be  admonished 
by  him.  Before  Mr.  Wesley  had  time  to  say  more 
than  a  word,  Pritchard  had  become  fluent  on  the 
subject  of  the  preacher's  responsibilities.  It  was 
not  for  Mr.  Wesley  to  go  wandering  in  the  utter- 
most parts  of  Cornwall,  he  said;  he  should  have 
remained  at  Porthawn  to  consolidate  the  work  that 
he  had  begun ;  had  he  done  so  until  he  had  gathered 
in  every  soul,  the  Lord  might  have  been  as  merciful 


124       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

to  the  world  as  He  had  been  to  Nineveh  in  the  days 
of  Jonah.  But  Mr.  Wesley  had,  like  Jonah,  fled 
from  his  duty,  and  the  next  Monday  was  to  be  the 
Day  of  Judgment. 

Wesley  listened  gravely  until  the  man  got  upon 
his  feet  and  with  an  outstretched  finger  toward  him, 
cried : 

"  I  have  been  mocked  by  some,  and  held  in  silent 
despite  by  others — all  of  them  professing  to  be  of 
the  Household  of  Faith,  because  the  Spirit  of 
prophecy  came  upon  me,  and  I  announced  the  truth. 
Nor,  Mr.  Wesley,  will  you  dare  to  join  with  the 
disbelievers  and  say  straight  out  that  the  first  Mon- 
day will  not  be  the  Last  Day  that  will  dawn  on  this 
world?7' 

"  No,"  said  Wesley,  "  I  would  not  be  so  pre- 
sumptuous as  to  lay  claim  to  any  knowledge  that 
would  entitle  me  to  speak  on  a  subject  of  such  aw- 
ful import.  '  Ye  know  not  the  day  nor  the  hour'— 
those  were  the  words  of  our  Lord,  and  anyone  who 
makes  profession  of  knowing  either,  commits  a 
grievous  sin." 

"  Ay,  anyone  but  me,"  said  Pritchard.  "  But  the 
revelation  was  made  to  me — I  take  no  glory  to 
myself.  The  great  and  terrible  Day  of  the  Lord 
cometh  next  Monday,  and  they  shall  cry  unto  the 
rocks  to  fall  on  them  and  the  mountains  to  cover 
them.  What  other  place  could  that  refer  to  if  not 
Ruthallion  and  Porthawn ;  is't  not  that  Ruthallion 
is  in  the  heart  of  the  hills  and  Porthawn  the  place 
of  rocks?  " 

With  all  gentleness  Wesley  spoke  to  the  man  of 
the  great  need  there  was  for  caution  on  the  part  of 
anyone  venturing  to  assign  times  and  seasons  to 
such  prophecies  as  had  been  uttered  respecting  the 
mystery  of  the  Last  Judgment.  He  tried  to  show 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED       125 

him  that  however  strong  his  own  conviction  was  on 
the  subject  of  the  Revelation,  he  should  hold  his 
peace,  for  fear  of  a  mistake  being  made  and  enemies 
being  afforded  a  reason  for  railing  against  the  cause 
which  they  all  had  at  heart.  The  interpretation  of 
prophecy,  he  said,  was  at  all  times  difficult  and 
should  certainly  not  be  lightly  attempted  even  by 
those  men  who  had  spent  all  their  lives  dealing  with 
the  subject,  with  the  light  of  history  to  guide  them. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  tact,  patience  and  gentle- 
ness with  which  the  pastor  pleaded  with  this  erring 
one  of  his  flock — the  miller  and  Jake  Pullsford  were 
amazed  at  his  forbearance;  they  learned  a  lesson 
from  him  which  they  never  forgot.  He  was  pa- 
tient and  said  no  word  of  offence  all  the  time  that 
they  were  waxing  irritable  at  the  foolishness  of  the 
man  who  sat  shaking  his  head  now  and  again,  and 
pursing  out  his  lips  after  the  manner  of  pig-headed 
ignorance  when  objecting  to  the  wisdom  of  experi- 
ence. 

It  was  all  to  no  purpose  that  Wesley  spoke.  The 
man  listened,  but  criticised  with  the  smile  of  in- 
credulous superiority  on  his  face  almost  all  the 
time  that  Wesley  was  speaking — it  varied  only 
when  he  was  shaking  his  head,  and  then  throwing 
it  back  defiantly.  It  was  all  to  no  purpose. 

"  You  are  right,  Mr.  Wesley,  in  some  ways,"  he 
cried.  "But  you  talk  of  the  interpretation  of 
prophecy.  Well,  that  is  within  your  sphere,  and  I 
durstn't  stop  you  so  far.  Ay,  but  I  am  not  an  in- 
terpreter of  prophecy — I  am  the  very  prophet  him- 
self. Friends,  said  not  I  the  truth  to  you  this  hour 
past — how  I  felt  as  it  were  a  burst  of  flame  within 
me,  whereby  I  knew  that  I  had  been  possessed  of 
the  spirit  of  prophecy?  The  gift  of  water-finding, 
which  has  been  mine  since  my  youth,  was  only  be- 


126       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

stowed  upon  the  major  prophets,  Moses  being  the 
chief;  and  when  I  read  of  Elijah,  who  in  the  days 
of  the  grievous  water  famine  was  enabled  by  the 
exercise  of  his  gift,  and  guided  by  the  hand  of  the 
Lord,  to  find  water— even  the  running  brook 
Chereth — in  the  midst  of  a  land  that  was  dusty  dry, 
all  unworthy  doubt  was  set  at  rest.  Is  it  not  writ- 
ten that  Elijah,  the  prophet,  was  to  come  back  to 
earth  to  warn  the  people  of  the  Great  Day  being  at 
hand?" 

"  Dear  friend,  stay  thy  tongue  for  a  moment — 
say  not  words  that  might  not  be  forgiven  thee  even 
by  the  Most  Merciful,"  cried  Wesley. 

"  You  are  a  great  preacher  and  a  faithful  servant 
— up  to  a  certain  point,  Mr.  Wesley;  but  you  are 
not  as  I  am,"  replied  Pritchard  firmly,  but  not  with- 
out a  tone  of  tenderness.  "  You  are  a  preacher ;  I 
am  the  prophet.  I  have  spoken  as  Jonah  spoke  to 
the  men  of  Nineveh :  *  Yet  forty  days  and  Nineveh 
shall  be  overthrown.'  '  In  eleven  days  the  world 
shall  be  overthrown/  said  I,  feeling  the  flame 
within  me." 

"  The  people  of  Nineveh  repented  and  the  destruc- 
tion was  averted,"  said  Wesley.  "  Have  there  been 
signs  of  a  great  repentance  among  the  people  who 
got  tidings  of  your  prediction?  " 

"  My  prophecy  has  everywhere  been  received  with 
ridicule,"  replied  the  man  proudly. 

"  I  can  testify  to  that,"  said  Jake  Pullsford.  "  I 
travel  about,  as  you  know,  and  I  hear  much  of  what 
is  talked  over  from  here  to  Devon,  and  only  for  a 
few  light-headed  women — ready  to  believe  that  the 
moon  was  the  sun  if  they  were  told  so  from  the 
pulpit — only  for  these,  it  might  be  said  that  Dick's 
foolishness  would  ha'  fallen  on  ears  as  deaf  as  an 
adder's." 


"  I,  myself,  can  bear  witness  to  the  evil  effect  that 
has  been  produced  among  a  people  who  were,  I 
hoped,  ready  for  the  sowing  of  the  good  seed,"  said 
Wesley.  "  It  was  a  great  sorrow  to  me  to  hear  the 
lightness  of  talk — the  offer  of  wagers — the  excuse 
of  drunkenness — all  the  result  of  Richard  Pritch- 
ard's  indiscretion." 

"  And  everywhither  it  has  been  received  as  com- 
ing from  us — from  us  whom  you  have  instructed  in 
the  Truth,  sir,"  said  Jake.  "  'Tis  not  Dick  Pritch- 
ard  that  has  been  ridiculed,  but  we  whom  they  call 
Methodists.  That  is  the  worst  of  it." 

"  And  now  that  I  have  paved  the  way  for  you,  the 
preacher,  Mr.  Wesley,  you  will  be  able  for  three 
days  to  exhort  the  people  to  repentance,"  said 
Pritchard,  with  the  air  of  a  man  accustomed  to  give 
advice  on  grave  matters,  with  confidence  that  his 
advice  would  be  followed. 

"  My  duty  is  clear,"  said  Wesley.  "  I  shall  have 
to  disclaim  all  sympathy  with  the  statements  made 
by  Richard  Pritchard.  Souls  are  not  to  be  terror- 
ised to  seek  salvation.  I  am  not  one  of  those  min- 
isters who  think  that  the  painting  of  lurid  pictures 
of  the  destruction  of  the  earth  and  all  that  is  therein 
the  best  way  of  helping  poor  sinners.  Nay,  there 
have  come  under  mine  own  eyes  many  instances  of 
the  very  temporary  nature  of  conversions  brought 
about  by  that  paradox  of  the  gospel  of  terror. 
But  need  we  look  for  guidance  any  further  away 
than  the  history  of  Jonah  and  the  Ninevites?  The 
prophet  preached  destruction,  and  the  people  re- 
pented. But  how  long  did  the  change  last?  The 
fire  and  brimstone  had  to  be  rained  down  upon 
them  before  the  sackcloth  that  they  assumed  was 
worn  out," 

"  On  Monday  the  fire  and  brimstone  will  over- 


128       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

whelm  the  whole  world,  and  woe  be  to  him  that 
preacheth  not  from  that  text  till  then ! "  cried 
Pritchard.  He  was  standing  at  one  end  of  the  table 
facing  the  window  that  had  a  western  aspect,  and 
as  he  spoke,  the  flaming  beams  of  the  sinking  sun 
streamed  through  the  glass  and  along  the  table  un- 
til they  seemed  to  envelop  him.  In  spite  of  the 
smallness  of  his  stature  he  seemed,  with  the  sun- 
beams striking  him,  to  possess  some  heroic  ele- 
ments. The  hand  that  he  uplifted  was  thin  and 
white,  and  it  trembled  in  the  light.  His  face  was 
illuminated,  not  from  without  only;  his  eyes  were 
large  and  deep,  and  they  seemed  staring  at  some 
object  just  outside  the  window. 

Watching  him  thus,  everyone*  in  the  room  turned 
toward  the  window — Wesley  was  the  only  excep- 
tion; he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  man  at  the 
foot  of  the  table.  He  saw  his  eyes  move  as  if  they 
were  following  the  movements  of  someone  outside, 
and  their  expression  varied  strangely.  But  they 
were  the  eyes  of  a  man  who  is  the  slave  of  his  nerves 
— of  a  visionary  who  is  carrid  away  by  his  own  ill- 
balanced  imagination — of  the  mystic  who  can  see 
what  he  wishes  to  see. 

Wesley  was  perplexed  watching  this  man  whose 
nature  seemed  to  have  completely  changed  within 
the  month.  He  had  had  a  good  deal  of  strange  ex- 
perience of  nervous  phases,  both  in  men  and  women 
who  had  been  overcome  by  his  preaching,  but  he  had 
never  before  met  with  a  case  that  was  so  strange 
as  this.  The  man  was  no  impostor;  an  impostor 
would  have  been  easy  to  deal  with.  He  was  a  firm 
believer  in  his  own  mission  and  in  his  own  powers, 
and  therein  lay  the  difficulty  of  suppressing  him. 

And  while  Wesley  watched  him,  and  everyone 
else  seemed  striving  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  object 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED      129 

on  which  the  man's  eyes  were  fixed,  the  light  sud- 
denly passed  out  of  his  eyes  and  they  became  like 
those  of  a  newly  dead  man,  staring  blankly  at  that 
vision  which  comes  before  the  sight  of  a  soul  that 
is  in  the  act  of  passing  from  the  earth  into  the  great 
unknown  Space.  There  he  stood  with  his  hand 
still  upraised,  and  that  look  of  nothingness  in  his 
staring  eyes. 

Wesley  sprang  up  from  the  table  to  support  him 
when  he  fell,  and  he  appeared  to  be  tottering  after 
the  manner  of  a  man  who  has  been  shot  through  the 
heart  while  on  his  feet;  and  Wesley's  movement 
caused  the  others  to  turn  toward  the  man. 

In  a  second  the  miller  was  behind  him  with  out- 
stretched arms  ready  to  support  him.  Pritchard 
did  not  fall  just  then,  however.  Breathlessly  and 
in  a  strained  silence,  the  others  watched  him  while 
he  swayed  to  the  extent  of  a  hand's  breadth  from 
side  to  side,  still  with  his  hand  upraised  and  rigid. 
For  some  minutes — it  might  have  been  five — he 
stood  thus,  and  in  the  end  he  did  not  collapse.  He 
went  slowly  and  rigidly  backward  into  Wesley's 
arms,  and  then  down  into  his  own  chair,  his  eyes 
still  open — still  blankly  staring,  devoid  of  all 
expression. 

"  Dead — can  he  be  dead?"  whispered  Jake,  slip- 
ping a  hand  under  his  waistcoat. 

Wesley  shook  his  head. 

"  He  is  not  dead,  but  in  a  trance,"  he  replied. 


CHAPTEK   XII 

FOB  half  an  hour  the  four  men  in  that  room  sat 
watching  with  painful  interest  the  one  who  sat 
motionless  in  the  chair  at  the  end  of  the  table. 
There  was  not  one  of  them  that  had  not  a  feeling 
of  being  a  watcher  by  the  side  of  a  bed  on  which  a 
dead  body  was  lying.  Not  a  word  was  exchanged 
between  them.  In  the  room  there  was  a  complete 
silence — the  silence  of  a  death  chamber.  The 
sound  of  the  machinery  of  the  mill — the  creaking 
of  the  wooden  wheels,  and  the  rumbling  of  the 
grindstones — went  on  in  dull  monotony  in  the  mill, 
and  from  the  kitchen,  beyond  the  oaken  door,  there 
came  the  occasional  clink  of  a  pan  or  kettle;  and 
outside  the  building  there  was  the  clank  of  the 
horses  of  a  waggon,  and  the  loud  voices  of  the 
waggoners  talking  to  the  men  in  one  of  the  lofts, 
and  now  and  again  directing  the  teams.  A  cock 
was  crowing  drowsily  at  intervals  in  the  poultry 
run,  and  once  there  was  a  quacking  squabble 
amongst  the  ducks  on  the  Mill  race.  And  then, 
with  the  lowing  of  the  cows  that  were  being  driven 
to  the  milking  shed,  came  the  laughter  of  a  girl, 
passing  the  waggoners. 

But  in  the  room  there  was  silence,  and  soon  the 
dimness  of  twilight. 

And  then  John  Wesley  prayed  in  a  low  voice. 

Enough  light  remained  in  the  room  to  allow  those 
watchers  to  see  when  consciousness  returned  to  the 
man's  eyes :  he  was  facing  the  window.  But  before 
the  expression  of  death  changed  to  that  of  life,  his 

130 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   131 

arm,  that  was  still  stiffly  outstretched,  and  seeming 
all  the  more  awkward  since  he  had  ceased  to  be  on 
his  feet,  fell  with  a  startling  thud  upon  the  edge  of 
the  table.  It  was  as  if  a  dead  man  had  made  a 
movement.  Then  his  eyes  turned  upon  each  in  the 
room  in  turn.  He  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  You  are  among  friends,  Dick ;  how  feel  you,  my 
man?"  said  Jake  Pullsford,  laying  his  hand  upon 
Pritchard's  that  had  fallen  upon  the  table. 

"  I  saw  it  again — clear — quite  clear,  Jake,"  said 
Pritchard. 

"What  saw  ye,  friend  Dick?"  asked  Jake. 

"  The  vision — the  Vision  of  Patmos.  The 
heavens  rolled  together  like  a  scroll — blackness  at 
first — no  mind  o'  man  ever  conceived  of  such  black- 
ness— the  plague  of  Egypt  was  snow-white  to  com- 
pare. And  then  'twas  all  flame — flame — flame. 
The  smith's  furnace  hath  but  a  single  red  eye  of 
fire,  but  its  sharp  brightness  stings  like  a  wasp. 
But  this — oh,  millions  upon  millions  of  furnace 
eyes,  and  every  eye  accusing  the  world  beneath.  Who 
can  live  with  everlasting  burning? — that  was  what 
the  Voice  cried — I  know  not  if  it  was  the  strong 
angel,  or  him  that  rode  upon  the  White  Horse,  but 
I  heard  it,  and  all  the  world  heard  it,  and  the  most 
dreadful  and  most  unusuallest  thing  of  all  was  the 
sight  of  that  White  Horse,  plunging  and  pawing 
with  all  the  fiery  flames  around  it  and  above  and 
below !  And  the  Voice  said,  '  There  shall  be  no 
more  sea,'  and  forthwith  all  the  tide  that  had  been 
flowing  in  hillocks  into  Porthawn  and  teasing  the 
pebbles  where  the  shallows  be,  and  lapping  the 
Dog's  Teeth  reef,  wimpling  around  the  spikes — all 
that  tide  of  water,  I  say,  began  to  move  out  so  that 
every  eye  could  see  it  move,  and  the  spikes  o'  the 
reef  began  to  grow  as  the  water  fell,  till  the  bases  of 


132       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

the  rocks  appeared  with  monstrous  weeds,  thick  as 
coiled  snakes,  and  crawling  shells,  monstrous 
mighty  that  a  man  might  live  in;  and  then  I  saw 
the  slime  of  the  deep,  thick  as  pitch  and  boiling 
and  bubbling  with  the  heat  below,  even  as  pitch 
boils  over  the  brazier  when  the  boats  lie  bottom  up 
on  the  beach.  And  then  I  saw  a  mighty  ship  lying 
in  the  ooze — a  ship  that  had  become  a  wreck,  may- 
be a  hundred  years  agone,  half  the  timbers  rotted 
from  the  bends  so  that  she  was  like  some  monster 
o'  the  deep  with  its  long  ridges  of  ribs  showing  flesh- 
less  as  a  skeleton.  And  then  the  Voice  cried,  *  The 
Sea  gave  up  its  Dead/  .  .  .  You  shall  see  it  for 
yourselves  on  Monday — ay,  all  that  came  before 
mine  eyes.  'Twas  Mr.  Wesley  preached  on  the  great 
moving  among  the  dry  bones — they  were  dry  in  that 
valley,  but  in  the  dread  secret  depths  where  the 
sea  had  been  these  were  damp  with  the  slime  of 
ages,  and  they  crawled  together,  bone  unto  bone, 
throwing  off  the  bright  green  seaweeds  that  over- 
laid them  like  shrouds  of  thin  silk.  They  stood  up 
together  all  in  the  flesh,  and  I  noted  that  their  skin 
was  the  yellow  pale  skin  of  the  drowned,  like  the 
cheeks  of  a  female  who  holds  a  candle  in  her  hands 
and  shades  the  flame  with  one  of  her  palms.  Flame 
— I  saw  them  all  by  the  light  of  the  flaming  sky, 
and  some  of  them  put  up  their  saffron  hands  be- 
tween their  faces  and  the  flame,  but  the  light  shone 
through  their  flesh  as  you  have  seen  the  sun  shine 
through  a  sere  leaf  of  chestnut  in  the  autumn," 

He  stopped  suddenly  and  drew  a  long  breath. 
For  some  moments  he  breathed  heavily.  No  one  in 
the  room  spoke.  A  boy  went  past  the  door  outside 
whistling. 

When  the  man  spoke  again  it  was  in  a  whisper. 
He  turned  to  Wesley. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       133 

"  Mr.  Wesley,  I  knew  not  that  I  had  the  gift 
until  I  heard  you  preach,"  he  said.  "  I  only  sus- 
pected now  and  again  when  I  felt  the  twitchings 
of  the  twig  between  my  hands  when  I  was  finding 
the  water,  that  I  was  not  as  other  men;  but  when 
I  heard  you  preach  and  saw  how  you  carried  all  who 
listened  away  upon  your  words  as  though  they 
were  not  words,  but  a  wave  of  the  sea,  and  the  nat- 
ural people  the  flotsam  of  the  waste,  I  felt  my 
heart  swell  within  me  by  reason  of  the  knowledge 
that  I  had  been  chosen  to  proclaim  something  great 
beyond  even  all  that  you  could  teach.  And  now  'tis 
left  for  you  to  stand  by  my  side  and  tell  all  that 
have  ears  to  hear  to  prepare  for  the  Great  Day. 
It  is  coming — Monday.  I  would  that  we  had  a 
longer  space,  Sir,  for,  were  it  so,  my  name  would 
go  forth  through  all  the  world  as  yours  has  done — 
nay,  with  more  honour,  for  a  prophet  is  ahead  of 
the  mere  preacher.  But  you  will  do  your  best  for 
the  world  in  the  time  allowed  to  us,  will  you  not, 
Mr.  Wesley?" 

He  laid  his  hand  on  one  of  Wesley's,  firmly  and 
kindly. 

"  My  poor  brother !  "  said  Wesley  gently.  "  God 
forgive  me  if  I  have  been  the  means  of  causing  hurt 
to  even  the  weakest  of  my  brethren.  Let  us  live, 
dear  brother,  as  if  our  days  in  the  world  were  not 
to  be  longer  than  this  week,  giving  our  thoughts 
not  to  ourselves,  but  to  God;  seeking  for  no  glory 
to  attach  to  our  poor  names,  but  only  to  the  Name 
at  which  every  knee  must  bow.  Humility — let  us 
strive  after  humility.  What  are  we  but  dust?  " 

The  man  looked  at  him — there  was  still  some 
light  in  the  room — and  after  the  lapse  of  a  few 
moments  he  said: 

"  You  have  spoke  a  great  truth,  Mr.  Wesley. 


134       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

Humility  is  for  all  of  us.  Pray  that  I  may  attain 
it,  brother.-  It  should  come  easy  enough  to  some 
that  we  know,  but  for  such  as  you  and  me,  espe- 
cially me,  dear  brother,  'tis  not  so  easy.  The  gift  of 
prophecy  surely  raises  a  humble  man  into  circum- 
stances so  lofty  that  he  is  above  the  need  for  any 
abject  demeanour.  Ay,  now  that  I  reflect  on't,  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  have  any  right  to  be  humble. 
'Twould  be  like  flouting  a  gift  in  the  face  of  the 
giver.  'Twould  be  like  a  servant  wearing  a  ragged 
coat  when  his  master  hath  provided  him  with  a  fine 
suit  of  livery." 

He  had  risen  from  his  place,  and  now  he  re- 
marked that  the  evening  had  come  and  he  had  far 
to  travel.  He  gave  Wesley  his  hand,  nodded  to  the 
others  and  went  through  the  door  without  another 
word. 

The  men  whom  he  left  in  the  room  drew  long 
breaths.  One  of  them — the  farmer — made  a  sound 
with  his  tongue  against  his  teeth  as  one  might  do 
when  a  child  too  young  to  know  better  breaks  a 
saucer.  The  miller  gave  an  exclamation  that  went 
still  further,  showing  more  of  contempt  and  less 
of  pity.  Mr.  Hartwell,  the  mine-owner,  who  was 
a  quiet,  well-read  man,  said: 

"  I  have  heard  of  cases  like  to  his ;  I  have  been 
reading  of  revivals,  as  some  call  such  an  awaken- 
ing as  has  taken  place  through  Mr.  Wesley's  preach- 
ing, and  every  one  of  them  has  been  followed  by  the 
appearance  of  men  not  unlike  Dick  Pritchard  in 
temper — men  who  lose  themselves  in  their  zeal- 
get  out  of  their  depth — become  seized  by  an  ambi- 
tion to  teach  others  before  they  themselves  have  got 
through  the  primer." 

"For  me,  I  call  to  mind  naught  but  the  magic 
men  of  Egypt,"  said  Jake  Pullsford.  "  They  were 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED      135 

able  to  do  by  their  traffic  with  the  Evil  One  all  that 
Moses  did  by  miracle.  I  always  had  my  doubts 
about  the  power  that  Dick  Pritchard  professed — 
finding  water  by  the  help  of  his  wand  of  hazel — as 
'twere  a  wizard's  wand — maybe  the  staves  of  the 
Egyptian  sorcerers  were  of  hazel — I  shouldn't 
wonder.  And  now  he  falls  into  a  trance  and  says 
he  sees  a  vision,  equalling  himself  to  St.  John  at 
Patmos!  For  myself  I  say  that  I  never  knew  of 
a  truly  godly  man  falling  into  a  trance.  My  grand- 
father— you  are  old  enough  to  remember  him, 
farmer?  " 

"  I  mind  him  well — pretty  stiff  at  a  bargain  up 
to  the  end,"  said  the  farmer  with  a  side  nod  of 
acquiescence. 

"  We  be  talking  of  the  same  man,"  resumed  the 
miller.  "  Well,  I  say  that  he  told  me  of  one  such 
mystical  vision  seer  that  came  from  Dorset  in  his 
young  days,  and  he  saw  so  many  things  that  he  was 
at  last  tried  for  sorcery  and  burnt  in  the  market- 
place. Ah,  those  wrere  the  days  when  men  wasn't 
allowed  by  law  to  go  so  far  as  they  do  now-a-days. 
Why,  'tis  only  rarely  that  we  hear  of  a  witch  burn- 
ing in  these  times." 

Wesley  held  up  his  hand. 

"  I  had  my  misgivings  in  regard  to  Pritchard 
from  the  first,"  he  said.  "And  when  I  got  news 
that  he  had  been  causing  you  trouble  I  felt  that  he 
had  indeed  been  an  agent  of  the  Evil  One.  But 
now — God  forbid  that  I  should  judge  him  in  haste. 
I  scarce  know  what  to  think  about  him.  I  have 
heard  of  holy  men  falling  into  trances  and  after- 
wards saying  things  that  were  profitable  to  hear. 
I  am  in  doubt.  I  must  pray  for  guidance." 

"  The  man  is  to  be  pitied,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell. 
"  You  heard  the  uplifted  way  he  talked  at  the  last 


136       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

— like  a  fool  full  of  his  own  conceit?  Have  you 
heard  yet,  Mr.  Wesley,  what  an  effect  his  predic- 
tion has  had  upon  the  country?  " 

"  I  heard  naught  of  it  until  I  had  entered  the 
parlour  at  the  inn  where  I  dined  to-day,  but  I 
think  I  heard  enough  to  allow  of  my  forming  some 
notion  of  the  way  his  prediction  was  received. 
Some  were  jocular  over  it,  a  few  grave,  and  a  large 
number  ribald." 

"  You  have  described  what  I  myself  have  noticed, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell.  "  Only  so  far  as  I  can 
see  there  are  a  large  number  who  are  well-nigh 
mad  through  fear.  Now  what  we  may  be  sure  of 
is  that  these  people,  when  Monday  passes,  will  turn 
out  open  scoffers  at  the  truth.  And  you  may  be 
certain  that  your  opponents  will  only  be  too  glad 
of  the  opportunity  thereby  afforded  them  of  dis- 
crediting your  labours;  they  will  do  their  best  to 
make  Methodism  responsible  for  the  foolishness 
and  vanity  of  that  man?  " 

"  I  perceived  that  that  would  be  so  the  moment 
I  got  your  letter,"  said  Wesley.  "  And  yet — I  tell 
you,  brethren,  that  I  should  be  slow  to  attribute 
any  imposture  to  this  man,  especially  since  I  have 
heard  him  speak  in  this  room.  He  believes  that  he 
has  been  endowed  by  Heaven  with  the  gift  of 
prophecy." 

"  And  he  only  acknowledges  it  to  boast,"  said 
Mr.  Hartwell.  "  It  is  his  foolish  boasting  that  I 
abhor  most,  knowing,  as  I  do  full  well,  that  every 
word  that  comes  from  him  will  be  used  against  us, 
and  tend  to  cast  discredit  upon  the  cause  which 
we  have  at  heart." 

Wesley  perceived  how  true  was  this  view  of  the 
matter,  but  still  he  remained  uncertain  what  course 
to  adopt  in  the  circumstances.  He  knew  that  it 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PEEVAILED   137 

was  the  fervour  of  his  preaching  that  had  affected 
Pritchard,  as  it  had  others;  he  had  heard  reports 
of  the  spread  of  a  religious  mania  at  Bristol  after 
he  had  preached  there  for  some  time;  but  he  had 
always  succeeded  in  tracing  such  reports  to  those 
persons  who  had  ridiculed  his  services.  This  was 
the  first  time  that  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
one  who  had  been  carried  away  by  his  zeal  to  a 
point  of  what  most  people  would  be  disposed  to 
term  madness. 

He  had  known  that  there  would  be  considerable 
difficulty  dealing  with  the  case  of  Pritchard,  but 
he  had  also  believed  that  the  man  would  become 
submissive  if  remonstrated  with.  It  had  hap- 
pened, however,  that,  so  far  from  becoming  sub- 
missive, Pritchard  had  reasserted  himself,  and  with 
so  much  effect  that  Wesley  found  himself  sym- 
pathising with  him — pitying  him,  and  taking  his 
part  in  the  face  of  the  others  who  were  apparently 
but  little  affected  by  the  impassioned  account  the 
man  had  given  of  his  vision  when  in  the  trance. 

It  was  not  until  the  night  had  fallen  that  they 
agreed  writh  Wesley  that  it  might  be  well  to  wait 
for  a  day  or  two  in  order  that  he  should  become 
acquainted  with  some  of  the  effects  of  the  predic- 
tion, and  thus  be  in  a  position  to  judge  whether 
or  not  he  should  take  steps  to  dissociate  himself 
and  his  mission  from  the  preaching  of  the  man 
Pritchard. 

He  had  not,  however,  gone  further  than  Port- 
hawn  the  next  day  before  he  found  out  that  the 
impression  produced  by  the  definite  announcement 
that  the  Day  of  Judgment  was  but  forty-eight 
hours  off  was  very  much  deeper  than  he  had  fan- 
cied. He  found  the  whole  neighbourhood  seething 
with  excitement  over  the  prophecy.  It  had  been 


138       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

made  by  Pritchard,  he  learned,  in  the  course  of 
a  service  which  had  been  held  in  a  field  on  the  first 
Sunday  after  Wesley's  departure,  and  it  had  been 
heard  by  more  than  a  thousand  of  the  people  whom 
Wesley's  preaching  had  aroused  from  lethargy  to 
a  living  sense  of  responsibility.  Religious  fervour 
had  taken  hold  upon  the  inhabitants  of  valley  and 
coast,  and  under  its  influence  extravagance  and 
exuberance  were  rife.  Only  at  such  a  time  would 
Pritchard's  new-found  fervour  have  produced  any 
lasting  impression,  but  in  the  circumstances  his 
assumption  of  the  mantle  of  the  prophet  and  his 
delivery  of  the  solemn  warning  had  had  among  the 
people  the  effect  of  a  firebrand  flung  among  straw. 
He  had  shouted  his  words  of  fire  to  an  inflammable 
audience,  and  his  picture  of  the  imminent  terror 
had  overwhelmed  them.  The  shrieks  of  a  few  hys- 
terical women  completed  what  his  prediction  had 
begun,  and  before  the  evening  the  valley  of  the 
Lana  was  seething  with  the  news  that  the  world 
was  coming  to  an  end  within  the  month. 

All  this  Wesley  heard  before  he  left  the  Mill, 
and  before  he  had  ridden  as  far  as  the  coast  village 
he  had  ample  confirmation  of  the  accuracy  of  the 
judgment  of  his  friends,  who  had  assured  him  that 
the  cause  which  they  had  at  heart  was  likely  to 
suffer  through  the  vanity  of  Pritchard.  He  also 
perceived  that  the  man  had  good  reason  for  being 
puffed  up  on  observing  the  effect  of  his  deliverance. 
In  a  moment  he  had  leaped  into  notoriety  from 
being  a  nonentity.  It  seemed  as  if  he  had  been 
ashamed  of  hearing  his  own  voice  a  short  time 
before,  and  this  fact  only  made  him  appear  a 
greater  marvel  to  himself  as  well  as  to  the  people 
who  had  heard  him  assume  the  character  of  a 
prophet  of  fire  and  brimstone.  It  was  no  wonder, 


Wesley  acknowledged,  that  the  man's  head  had 
been  turned. 

The  worst  of  the  matter  was  that  he  was  referred 
to  by  nearly  all  the  countryside  as  Wesley's  deputy. 
Even  the  most  devoted  of  Wesley's  hearers  seemed 
to  have  accepted  Pritchard  as  the  exponent  of  the 
methods  adopted  by  Wesley  to  get  the  ears  of  the 
multitude.  In  their  condition  of  blind  fervour 
they  were  unable  to  differentiate  between  the  zeal 
of  the  one  to  convey  to  them  the  living  Truth  and 
the  excess  of  the  other.  They  were  in  the  condi- 
tion of  the  French  mob,  who,  fifty  years  later,  after 
being  stirred  by  an  orator,  might  have  gone  to 
think  over  their  wrongs  for  another  century  had 
not  a  madman  lighted  a  torch  and  pointed  to  the 
Bastille. 

It  was  only  to  be  expected  that  the  opponents  of 
the  great  awakening  begun  by  Wesley  should  point 
to  the  extravagance  of  Pritchard  and  call  it  the 
natural  development  of  Methodism.  Wesley's  cru- 
sade had  been  against  the  supineness  of  the  Church 
of  England,  they  said ;  but  how  much  more  prefera- 
ble was  this  supineness  to  the  blasphemy  of  Meth- 
odism as  interpreted  by  the  charlatan  who  arro- 
gated to  himself  the  power  of  a  prophet ! 

He  was  pained  as  he  had  rarely  been  since  hi& 
American  accusers  had  forced  him  to  leave  Georgia, 
when  he  found  what  a  hold  the  prediction  had  got 
on  the  people.  He  had  evidence  of  the  extent  of 
Pritchard's  following  even  during  his  ride  to  Port- 
hawn.  At  the  cross  roads,  not  two  miles  from  the 
Mill,  he  came  upon  a  large  crowd  being  preached 
to  by  a  man  whom  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  the 
text  was  the  Judgment  Day.  The  preacher  was 
fervid  and  illiterate.  He  became  frantic,  touching 
upon  the  terror  that  was  to  come  on  Monday;  and 


140       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

his  hearers  were  shrieking — men  as  well  as  wom-?n. 
Some  lay  along  the  ground  sobbing  wildly,  others 
sang  a  verse  of  a  hymn  in  frenzy. 

Further  along  the  road  a  woman  was  preaching 
repentance — in  another  two  days  it  would  be  too 
late;  and  in  the  next  ditch  a  young  woman  was 
making  a  mock  of  her,  putting  a  ribald  construc- 
tion upon  what  she  was  saying.  Further  on  still 
he  came  to  a  tavern,  outside  which  there  was  a  large 
placard  announcing  that  the  world  would  only  last 
till  Monday,  and  having  unfortunately  a  large  stock 
of  beer  and  rum  in  fine  condition,  the  innkeeper  was 
selling  off  the  stock  at  a  huge  reduction  in  the  price 
of  every  glass  of  liquor. 

Wesley  had  no  difficulty  in  perceiving  the  man's 
generosity  was  being  appreciated.  The  bar  was 
crowded  with  uproarious  men  and  women,  and 
some  were  lying  helpless  on  the  stones  of  the  yard. 

On  the  wall  of  a  disused  smithy  a  mile  or 
two  nearer  the  coast  there  was  chalked  up  the 
inscription : 

"  The  Methodys  have  bro*  about  the  Ende  of  the 
World.  Who  will  bring  about  the  Ende  of  the 
Methodys?  Downe  with  them  all,  I  saye." 

He  rode  sadly  onward,  with  bowed  head.  He 
felt  humiliated,  feeling  that  the  object  for  which 
he  lived  was  humiliated. 

And  the  worst  of  the  matter  was,  he  saw,  that 
these  people  who  were  making  a  mock  of  the  Truth, 
some  consciously,  others  unconsciously,  were  not  in 
a  condition  to  lend  an  ear  to  any  remonstrance  that 
might  come  from  him.  The  attitude  assumed  by 
Pritchard  was,  Wesley  knew,  typical  of  that  which 
would  be  taken  up  by  his  followers,  and  the  mockers 
would  only  be  afforded  a  new  subject  for  ridicule. 

"  Is  it  I — is  it  I  who  am  an  unprofitable  serv- 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   141 

ant?  "  he  cried  out  of  the  depth  of  his  despondency. 
"  Is  it  I  that  have  been  the  cause  of  the  enemy's 
blasphemy?  What  have  I  done  that  I  should  be 
made  a  witness  of  this  wreckage  of  all  that  I  hoped 
to  see  accomplished  through  my  work?" 

For  some  time  he  felt  as  did  the  man  who  cried 
"  It  is  enough !  I  am  not  better  than  my  fellows." 

He  let  his  rein  drop  on  his  horse's  neck  when 
approaching  the  house  wThere  he  was  to  be  a  guest. 
The  day  was  one  of  grey  mists  rolling  from  the  sea 
through  the  valley,  spreading  wisps  of  gauze  over 
the  higher  slopes,  which  soon  whirled  into  muslin 
scarfs  with  an  occasional  ostrich  plume  shot 
through  with  sunshine.  At  times  a  cataract  of  this 
grey  sea  vapour  would  plunge  over  the  slopes  of  a 
gorge  and  spread  abroad  into  a  billowy  lake  that 
swirled  round  the  basin  of  the  valley  and  then  sud- 
denly lifted,  allowing  a  cataract  of  sunshine  to 
pour  down  into  the  hollows  which  were  dewy  damp 
from  the  mist. 

It  was  a  strange  atmosphere  with  innumerable 
changes  from  minute  to  minute. 

"  For  me  the  shadows  of  the  mist — the  shadows 
touched  by  no  ray  of  sunshine,"  he  cried  when  he 
felt  the  cold  salt  breath  of  the  vapour  upon  his 
face. 

And  then  he  bowed  his  head  and  prayed  that  the 
shadows  might  flee  away  and  the  Daystar  arise 
once  more  to  lighten  the  souls  of  the  people  as  he 
had  hoped  that  they  would  be  enlightened. 

When  he  unclosed  his  eyes,  after  that  solemn 
space  in  which  a  man  stretches  out  weak  hands, 
"groping  blindly  in  the  darkness,"  hoping  that 
they  will  touch  God's  right  hand  in  that  darkness 
and  be  guided  into  a  right  path,  he  saw  the  tall 
figure  of  a  man  standing  on  a  crag  watching  him. 


'The  man  had  the  aspect  of  a  statue  of  stone  looking 
•out  of  a  whirl  of  sea-mist. 

Wesley  saw  that  it  was  Bennet,  the  man  by  whom 
he  had  been  met  when  he  was  walking  through  this 
valley  for  the  first  time  with  Nelly  Polwhele.  He 
had  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  man  during  the 
few  weeks  that  he  had  sojourned  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. He  found  that  he  was  a  man  of  some  educa- 
tion— certainly  with  a  far  more  intimate  knowl- 
edge of  the  classics  than  was  possessed  by  most  of 
the  parsons  west  of  Exeter.  He  had  been  a  school- 
master in  Somerset,  but  his  erratic  habits  had  pre- 
vented him  from  making  any  position  for  himself. 
He  had  become  acquainted  with  Nelly  Polwhele  at 
Bristol,  and  his  devotion  to  her  amounted  almost 
:to  a  madness.  It  was  all  to  no  purpose  that  she 
refused  to  listen  to  him;  he  renewed  his  suit  in 
season  and  out  of  season  until  his  persistence 
amounted  to  persecution.  Of  course  Nelly  found 
many  self-constituted  champions,  and  Bennet  was 
attacked  and  beaten  more  than  once  when  off  his 
guard.  When,  however,  he  was  prepared  for  their 
assault  he  had  shown  himself  to  be  more  than  a 
match  for  the  best  of  them.  The  fact  that  he  had 
disabled  for  some  weeks  two  of  his  assailants  did 
not  make  him  any  more  popular  than  he  had  been 
in  the  neighbourhood. 

There  he  stood  looking  at  Wesley,  and  there  he 
remained  for  several  minutes,  looking  more  than 
ever  like  a  grey  stone  figure  on  a  rough  granite 
pedestal. 

It  was  not  until  Wesley  had  put  his  horse  in  mo- 
tion that  the  man  held  up  one  hand,  saying: 

"  Give  me  one  minute,  Mr.  Wesley.  I  know  that 
you  are  not  afraid  of  me.  Why  should  you  be?  " 

"Why,   indeed?"   said  Wesley.    "I   know   not 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED      143 

why  I  should  fear  you,  seeing  that  I  fear  no  man 
who  lives  on  this  earth?  " 

"  You  came  hither  with  a  great  blowing  of  trum- 
pets, Mr.  Wesley,"  said  the  man.  "  You  were  the 
one  that  was  to  overthrow  all  the  old  ways  of  the 
Church — you  were  to  make  such  a  noise  as  would 
cause  the  good  old  dame  to  awake  from  her  slumber 
of  a  century.  Well,  you  did  cause  her  to  awake; 
but  the  noise  that  you  made  awoke  more  than  that 
good  mother,  the  Church  of  England — it  aroused 
a  demon  or  two  that  had  been  slumbering  in  these 
valleys,  and  they  began  to  show  what  they  could 
do.  They  did  not  forget  their  ancient  trick — an 
angel  of  light — isn't  that  the  wiliest  sorcery  of  our 
ancient  friend,  the  Devil,  Mr.  Wesley?  " 

"  You  should  know,  if  you  are  his  servant  sent  to 
mock  me,"  said  Wesley. 

"  You  have  taught  the  people  a  religion  of  emo- 
tion, and  can  you  wonder  that  the  Enemy  has  taken 
up  your  challenge  and  gone  far  beyond  you  in  the 
same  direction?  He  found  a  ready  tool  and  a 
ready  fool  in  your  ardent  disciple  with  the  comical 
Welsh  name — Kichard  Pritchard,  to  wit.  He  has 
shown  the  people  that  you  were  too  tame,  and  the 
water-finder  hath  found  fire  to  be  more  attractive 
as  a  subject  than  insipid  water.  You  are  beaten 
out  of  the  field,  Mr.  Wesley.  As  usual,  the  pupil 
hath  surpassed  the  master,  and  you  find  yourself 
in  the  second  place." 

Wesley  sat  with  his  head  bent  down  to  his  horse's 
neck.  He  made  no  reply  to  the  man's  scoff;  what 
to  him  was  the  scoffing  of  this  man?  When  one  is 
sitting  in  the  midst  of  the  ruins  of  his  house  what 
matters  it  if  the  wind  blows  over  one  a  handful  of 
dust  off  the  roadside? 

"  John  Wesley,  the  preacher,  hath  been  deposed, 


144       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

and  Pritchard,  the  prophet,  reigns  in  his  stead,"  the 
man  went  on.  "  Ay,  and  all  the  day  you  have  been 
saying  to  yourself,  '  What  have  I  done  to  deserve 
this?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  this?'  Dare 
you  deny  it,  O  preacher  of  the  Gospel  of  Truth?  " 

Wesley  bowed  his  head  once  more. 

"  Mayhap  you  found  no  answer  ready,"  Bennet 
cried.  "  Then  I'll  let  you  into  the  secret,  John 
Wesley.  You  are  being  rightly  punished  because 
you  have  been  thinking  more  of  the  love  of  woman 
than  of  the  Love  of  God." 

Wesley's  head  remained  bent  no  longer. 

"What  mean  you  by  that  gibe,  man?"  he 
cried. 

"  Ask  your  own  heart  what  I  mean,"  said  the 
man  fiercely.  "  Your  own  heart  knows  full  well 
that  you  sought  to  win  the  love  of  the  woman  who 
walked  with  you  on  this  road  little  more  than  a 
month  ago,  and  who  ministered  to  you  on  the  day 
of  your  great  preaching — you  took  her  love  from 
those  to  whom  she  owed  it,  and  you  have  cherished, 
albeit  you  know  that  she  can  never  be  a  wife  to 
you." 

"  The  Lord  rebuke  thee,"  said  Wesley,  when  the 
man  made  a  pause. 

"  Nay,  'tis  on  you  that  the  rebuke  has  fallen,  and 
you  know  it,  John  Wesley,"  cried  Bennet,  more 
fiercely  than  ever.  "  Nelly  Polwhele  would  have 
come  to  love  me  in  time  had  not  you  come  between 
us — that  I  know — I  know  it,  I  tell  you,  I  know 
it — my  love  for  her  is  so  overwhelming  that  she 
would  not  have  been  able  to  hold  out  against  it. 
But  you  came,  and — answer  me,  man:  when  it 
was  written  to  you  that  you  were  to  return  hither 
in  hot  haste  to  combat  the  folly  of  Pritchard,  did 
not  your  heart  exult  with  the  thought  singing 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       145 

through  it/  I  shall  see  her  again — I  shall  be  beside 
her  once  more '?" 

Wesley  started  so  that  his  horse  sprang  for- 
ward and  the  man  before  him  barely  escaped  being 
knocked  down.  But  Bennet  did  not  even  pretend 
that  he  fancied  Wesley  intended  riding  him  down. 
He  only  laughed  savagely,  saying : 

"  That  start  of  yours  tells  me  that  I  know  what 
is  in  your  heart  better  than  you  do  yourself.  Well, 
it  hath  made  a  revelation  to  you  now,  Mr.  Wesley, 
and  if  you  are  wise  you  will  profit  by  it.  I  tell 
you  that  if  you  think  of  her  again  you  are  lost — 
you  are  lost.  The  first  rebuke  has  fallen  upon  you 
from  above.  'Tis  a  light  one.  But  what  will 
the  second  be?  Ponder  upon  that  question,  sir. 
Know  that  even  now  she  is  softening  toward  me. 
Come  not  between  us  again.  Man,  the  love  of 
woman  is  not  for  such  as  you,  least  of  all  the  love 
of  a  child  whose  heart  is  as  the  heart  of  the  Spring 
season  quivering  with  the  joy  of  life.  Now  ride 
on,  sir,  and  ask  your  reason  if  I  have  not  counselled 
you  aright." 

He  had  spoken  almost  frantically  at  first;  but 
his  voice  had  fallen:  he  had  become  almost  calm 
while  uttering  his  last  sentences. 

He  took  off  his  hat,  stepped  to  one  side,  and 
pointed  down  the  road.  He  kept  his  arm  stretched 
out  and  his  fingers  as  an  index,  while  Wesley  looked 
at  him,  as  if  about  to  make  a  reply. 

But  if  Wesley  meant  to  speak  he  relinquished  his 
intention.  He  looked  at  the  man  without  a  word, 
and  without  breaking  the  silence,  urged  his  horse 
forward  and  rode  slowly  away. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

JOHN  WESLEY  had  ample  food  for  thought  for 
the  remainder  of  his  journey.  He  knew  that  the 
man  who  had  appeared  to  him  so  suddenly  out  of 
the  mist  had  for  some  time  been  on  the  brink  of 
madness  through  his  wild  passion  for  Nelly  Pol- 
whele,  which  brought  about  a  frenzy  of  jealousy 
in  respect  of  any  man  whom  he  saw  near  the  girl. 
The  fierceness  of  his  gibes  was  due  to  this  madness 
of  his.  But  had  the  wretch  stumbled  in  his  blind- 
ness over  a  true  thing?  Was  it  the  truth  that  he, 
Wesley,  had  all  unknown  to  himself  drawn  that 
girl  close  to  him  by  a  tenderer  cord  than  that  which 
had  caused  her  to  minister  to  his  needs  after  he  had 
preached  his  first  great  sermon? 

The  very  idea  of  such  a  thing  happening  was 
startling  to  him.  It  would  have  seemed  shocking 
to  him  if  it  had  not  seemed  incredible.  How  was 
it  possible,  he  asked  himself,  that  that  girl  could 
have  been  drawn  to  love  him?  What  was  he  to 
attract  the  love  of  such  a  young  woman?  He  was 
in  all  matters  save  only  one,  cold  and  austere.  He 
knew  that  his  austereness  had  been  made  the  sub- 
ject of  ridicule — of  caricature — at  Oxford  and 
Bath  and  elsewhere.  He  had  been  called  lugu- 
brious by  reason  of  his  dwelling  so  intently  on  the 
severer  side  of  life,  and  he  had  never  thought  it 
necessary  to  defend  himself  from  such  charges.  He 
was  sure  that  they  were  not  true. 

That  was  the  manner  of  man  that  he  was,  and 
this  being  so,  how  was  it  possible  that  he  should 

146 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       147 

ever  draw  to  himself  tlie  love  of  such  a  bright  crea- 
ture as  Nelly  Polwhele?  What  was  she?  Why, 
the  very  opposite  to  him  in  every  respect.  She  was 
vivacious — almost  frivolous;  she  had  taken  a  de- 
light in  all  the  gaieties  of  life — why,  the  first  time 
he  saw  her  she  had  been  in  the  act  of  imitating  a 
notorious  play-actress,  and,  what  made  it  worse, 
she  was  playing  the  part  extremely  well.  To  be 
sure  she  had  taken  his  reproof  with  an  acknowledg- 
ment that  it  was  deserved,  and  she  had  of  her  own 
free  will  and  under  no  pressure  from  him  promised 
that  she  would  never  again  enter  a  playhouse;  but 
still  he  knew  that  the  desire  for  such  gaieties  was 
not  eradicated  from  her  nature.  It  would  be  un- 
natural to  suppose  that  it  was.  In  short,  she  had 
nothing  in  common  with  him,  and  to  fancy  that 
she  had  seen  anything  in  him  to  attract  her  love 
would  be  to  fancy  the  butterfly  in  rapture  around 
a  thistle. 

Oh,  it  was  incredible  that  such  a  thing  should 
happen.  The  notion  was  the  outcome  of  the  jeal- 
ousy of  that  wretch.  Why,  the  first  time  that  the 
man  had  seen  them  together  had  he  not  burst  out 
on  them,  accusing  him  of  stealing  away  the  child's 
affection,  although  he  had  not  been  ten  minutes  by 
her  side? 

Of  course  the  notion  was  preposterous.  He  felt 
that  it  was  so,  and  at  the  same  moment  that  this 
conviction  came  to  him  he  was  conscious  of  a  little 
feeling  of  sadness  to  think  that  it  was  so.  The 
more  certain  he  became  on  the  matter  the  greater 
was  the  regret  that  he  felt. 

Was  it  curious  that  he  should  dwell  upon  what 
the  man  had  said  last  rather  than  upon  what  he 
had  said  first?  But  some  time  had  passed  before 
he  recalled  the  charge  that  Bennet  had  brought 


148       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

against  him  almost  immediately  after  they  had 
met — the  charge  of  having  Nelly  Polwhele  in  his 
thoughts  rather  than  the  work  with  which  he  had 
been  entrusted  by  his  Maker.  The  man  had  ac- 
cused him  of  loving  the  girl,  and  declared  that  his 
present  trouble  was  the  rebuke  that  he  had  earned. 

He  had  been  startled  by  this  accusation.  Was 
that  because  he  did  not  know  all  that  was  in  his 
own  heart?  Could  it  be  possible  that  he  loved 
Nelly  Polwhele?  Once  before  he  had  asked  him- 
self this  question,  and  he  had  not  been  able  to 
assure  himself  as  to  how  it  should  be  answered, 
before  he  received  that  letter  calling  him  back  to 
this  neighbourhood;  and  all  thoughts  that  did  not 
bear  upon  the  subject  of  that  letter  were  swept 
from  his  mind.  He  knew  that  he  heard  in  his  ear 
a  quick  whisper  that  said: 

"  You  will  be  beside  her  again  within  four  days;  " 
but  only  for  a  single  second  had  that  thought  taken 
possession  of  him.  It  had  come  to  him  with  the 
leap  up  of  a  candle  flame  before  it  is  extinguished. 
That  thought  had  been  quenched  at  the  moment 
of  its  exuberance,  and  now  he  knew  that  this  ac- 
cusation brought  against  him  was  false ;  not  once— 
not  for  a  single  moment,  even  when  riding  far  into 
the  evening  through  the  lonely  places  of  the  valley 
where  he  might  have  looked  to  feel  cheered  by  such 
a  thought,  had  his  heart  whispered  to  him: 

"  You  will  be  beside  her  again  within  four  days!' 

She  had  not  come  between  him  and  the  work 
which  he  had  to  do. 

But  now  the  man  had  said  to  him  all  that 
brought  back  his  thoughts  to  Nelly  Polwhele;  and 
having,  as  he  fancied,  answered  the  question 
which  he  put  to  him  respecting  her  loving  him,  he 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       149 

found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  "uestion  of  the 
possibility  of  his  loving  her. 

It  came  upon  him  with  the  force  of  a  blow ;  the 
logical  outcome  of  his  first  reflections : 

"  If  I  found  it  incredible  that  she  could  have  any 
affection  for  me  because  we  have  nothing  in  com- 
mon, is  not  the  same  reason  sufficient  to  convince 
me  that  it  is  impossible  I  could  love  her?  " 

He  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  assure  himself 
that  the  feeling  which  he  had  for  her  was  not  the 
love  which  a  man  has  for  a  woman ;  but  he  did  not 
feel  any  great  exultation  on  coming  to  this  logical 
conclusion  of  his  consideration  of  the  question 
which  had  been  suggested  to  him  by  the  accusa- 
tions of  Bennet ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  certain  plaintive  note  in  the  midst  of  all  his 
logic — a  plaintive  human  note — the  desire  of  a  good 
man  for  the  love  of  a  good  woman.  He  felt  very 
lonely  riding  down  that  valley  of  sea-mist  permeated 
not  with  the  cold  of  the  sea,  but  with  the  warmth  of 
the  sunlight  that  struck  some  of  the  highest  green 
ridges  of  the  slopes  above  him.  His  logic  had  led 
him  only  into  his  barren  loneliness,  until  his  sound 
mental  training,  which  compelled  him  to  examine 
an  argument  from  every  standpoint,  asserted  itself 
and  he  found  that  his  logic  was  carrying  him  on 
still  further,  for  now  it  was  saying  to  him : 

"  If  you,  who  have  nothing  in  common  with  that 
young  woman,  have  been  led  to  love  her,  what  is 
there  incredible  in  the  suggestion  that  she  has  been 
led  to  love  you?" 

Then  it  was  that  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling 
of  exultation.  His  own  heart  seemed  to  be  re- 
vealed to  him  in  a  moment.  Only  for  a  moment, 
however;  for  he  gave  a  cry,  passing  his  hand 


150       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

athwart  his  face  as  if  to  sweep  away  a  film  of  mist 
from  before  his  eyes. 

"Madness — madness  and  disaster!  The  love  of 
woman  is  not  for  such  as  I — the  man  spoke  the 
truth.  The  love  of  woman  is  not  for  me.  Not  for 
me  the  sweet  companionship,  the  fireside  of  home, 
the  little  cradle  from  which  comes  the  little  cry — 
not  for  me — not  for  me !  " 

He  rode  on,  and  so  docile  had  his  mind  become 
through  the  stern  discipline  of  years,  not  once  did 
his  thoughts  stray  to  Nelly  from  the  grave  matter 
which  he  had  been  considering  when  he  encoun- 
tered Bennet — not  once  did  he  think  even  of 
Bennet.  What  he  had  before  him  was  the  ques- 
tion of  what  steps  he  should  take  to  counteract 
the  mischief  which  had  been  done  and  was  still 
being  done  by  the  man  who  had  taken  it  upon  him 
to  predict  the  end  of  the  world. 

A  change  seemed  to  have  come  over  his  way  of 
looking  at  the  matter.  Previously  he  had  not  seen 
his  way  clearly;  the  mist  that  was  sweeping 
through  the  valley  seemed  to  have  obscured  his 
mental  vision.  He  had  been  aware  of  a  certain  ill- 
defined  sympathy  in  regard  to  the  man  since  he  had 
shown  himself  to  be  something  of  a  mystic;  his 
trance  and  his  account  of  the  vision  that  he  had 
seen  had  urged  Wesley's  interest  into  another  chan- 
nel, as  it  were;  so  that  he  found  himself  consider- 
ing somewhat  dreamily  the  whole  question  of  the 
trustworthiness  of  visions,  and  then  he  had  been 
able  to  agree  with  his  friends  at  the  Mill  who  had 
certainly  not  taken  very  long  to  make  up  their 
minds  as  to  how  Pritchard  should  be  dealt  with. 

Now,  however,  Wesley  seemed  to  see  his  way 
clearly.  He  became  practical  in  a  moment.  He 
perceived  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  dis- 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       151 

sociate  himself  and  his  system  from  such  as  Pritch- 
ard — men  who  sought  to  play  solely  upon  the 
emotions  of  their  hearers,  and  who  had  nothing 
of  the  Truth  to  offer  them  however  receptive  their 
hearers'  hearts  had  become.  He  did  not  doubt 
that  Pritchard  would  take  credit  to  himself  for  the 
non-fulfilment  of  his  prophecy.  He  would  bring 
forward  the  case  of  Jonah  and  Nineveh.  Jonah 
had  said  definitely  that  Nineveh  would  be  de- 
stroyed on  a  certain  day;  but  the  inhabitants  had 
been  aroused  to  repent,  and  the  city's  last  day  had 
been  deferred.  He  would  take  credit  to  himself 
for  arresting  the  Day  of  Judgment,  his  prophecy 
having  brought  about  the  repentance  of  his  neigh- 
bours at  Porthawn  and  Ruthallion,  and  thus  the 
fact  of  his  prophecy  not  being  realised  would  actu- 
ally add  to  the  fame  which  he  had  already  achieved, 
and  his  harmfulness  would  be  proportionately 
increased. 

Wesley  knew  that  not  much  time  was  left  to 
him  and  his  friends  to  take  action  as  it  seemed 
right  to  him.  The  day  was  Friday,  and  he  would 
preach  on  Sunday  and  state  his  views  in  respect 
of  Pritchard  and  his  following,  so  that  it  should 
be  known  that  he  discountenanced  their  acts.  He 
had  seen  and  heard  enough  during  his  ride  through 
the  valley  to  let  him  know  how  imminent  was  dis- 
aster to  the  whole  system  of  which  he  was  the 
exponent. 

He  had  succeeded  in  banishing  from  his  mind 
every  thought  which  he  had  had  in  regard  to  Nelly 
Polwhele;  so  that  it  was  somewhat  disturbing  for 
him  to  come  upon  her  close  to  the  entrance  gates 
to  the  Court.  She  was  carrying  a  wicker  bird  cage 
containing  two  young  doves;  he  heard  her  voice 
talking  to  the  birds  before  he  recognised  her.  For 


152       THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEYAILED 

a  moment  he  felt  that  he  should  stop  his  horse  and 
allow  her  to  proceed  so  far  in  front  of  him  that  she 
should  reach  the  village  without  his  overtaking 
her;  but  a  moment's  reflection  was  enough  to  as- 
sure him  that  to  act  in  this  way  would  be  cow- 
ardice. He  had  succeeded  in  banishing  her  from 
his  mind,  and  that  gave  him  confidence  in  his  own 
power  to  abide  by  the  decision  to  which  he  had  come 
respecting  her.  To  avoid  her  at  this  time  would 
have  been  to  confess  to  himself  that  he  was  not 
strong  enough  to  control  his  own  heart;  and  he 
believed  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  do  so.  There- 
fore he  found  himself  once  more  beside  her  and  felt 
that  he  was  without  a  trouble  in  the  world. 

Of  course  she  became  very  red  when  he  spoke  her 
name  and  stooped  from  his  saddle  to  give  her  his 
hand.  She  had  blushed  in  the  same  way  an  hour 
before  when  old  Squire  Trevelyan  had  found  her 
with  his  daughters  and  said  a  kindly  word  to 
her. 

"  I  have  been  to  my  young  ladies,"  she  said,  "  and 
see  what  they  have  given  to  me,  sir."  She  held  up 
the  cage  and  the  birds  turned  their  heads  daintily 
in  order  to  eye  him.  "  They  were  found  in  a  nest 
by  one  of  the  keepers,  and  as  my  ladies  are  going 
to  London  they  gave  the  little  birds  to  me.  I  hope 
they  will  thrive  under  my  care." 

"  Why  should  they  not?  "  he  said.  "  You  will 
be  a  mother  to  them  and  they  will  teach  you." 

She  laughed  with  a  puzzled  wrinkle  between  her 
eyes. 

"Teach  me,  sir?" 

"  Ay,  they  will  teach  you,  I  would  fain  hope,  how 
becoming  is  a  sober  shade  of  dress  even  to  the 
young." 

"  Do  I  need  to  be  taught  such  a  lesson,  Mr.  Wes- 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       153 

ley?"  she  cried,  and  now  her  face  was  in  need  of 
such  a  lesson.  She  spoke  as  if  hurt  by  his  sug- 
gestion. 

"  I  have  never  seen  you  dressed  except  modestly 
and  as  is  becoming  to  a  young  woman,"  he  replied. 
"  Indeed  I  meant  not  what  I  said  to  be  a  reproach. 
I  only  said  what  came  first  to  mind  when  I  saw 
those  dainty  well-dressed  creatures.  My  thought 
was :  *  Her  association  with  such  companions  will 
surely  prevent  her  from  yielding  to  the  weakness  of 
most  young  women.  She  will  see  that  the  dove 
conveys  gentleness  to  the  mind,  whereas  the  peacock 
is  the  type  of  all  that  is  to  be  despised/  Then,  my 
dear  child,  the  pair  of  turtle  doves  is  an  emblem  of 
sacrifice." 

"  Is  that  why  they  were  chosen  as  the  symbols 
of  love?  "  said  the  girl,  after  a  pause. 

He  looked  at  her  curiously  for  some  time.  He 
wondered  what  was  in  her  mind.  Had  she  gone  as 
far  as  her  words  suggested  in  her  knowledge  of 
what  it  meant  to  love? 

"  I  think  that  there  can  be  no  true  love  without 
self-sacrifice,"  said  he.  "  'Tis  the  very  essence — 
the  spiritual  part  of  love." 

"  Is  it  so  in  verity,  sir?  "  she  cried.  "  Now  I  have 
ever  thought  that  what  is  called  love  is  of  all  things 
the  most  selfish.  Were  it  not  so  why  should  it 
provoke  men  to  quarrel — nay,  the  quarrelling  is 
not  only  on  the  side  of  the  men.  I  have  seen  sis- 
ters up  in  arms  simply  because  the  lover  of  one 
had  given  a  kindly  glance  to  the  other." 

"  To  be  ready  to  sacrifice  one's  self  to  save  the 
loved  one  from  disaster — from  trouble  in  any  shape 
or  form — that  is  the  love  that  is  true,  be  assured 
of  that,  Nelly,"  said  he.  "  Love,  if  it  be  true,  will 
help  one  to  do  one's  duty — to  our  Maker  as  well 


as  to  our  fellow-men,  and  to  do  that  duty  without  a 
thought  of  whatever  sacrifices  it  may  demand. 
Love,  if  it  be  true,  will  not  shrink  from  the  greatest 
sacrifice  that  can  be  demanded  of  it — separation 
from  the  one  who  is  beloved — a  dividing  asunder 
forever.  That  is  why  it  is  the  noblest  part  of  a 
man's  nature,  and  that  is  why  it  should  not  be 
lightly  spoken  of  as  is  done  daily." 

"  Ah,  sir,"  she  said,  "  that  may  be  the  love  that 
poets  dream  of;  I  have  read  out  of  poetry  books  to 
my  ladies  at  the  Court,  when  they  were  having 
their  hair  brushed.  There  was  the  poet  Waller, 
whom  they  liked  to  have  read  to  them,  and  Mr. 
Pope,  in  places.  Mr.  Marlowe  they  had  a  great 
regard  for.  They  all  put  their  dreams  of  love  into 
beautiful  words  that  would  make  the  coldest  of  us 
in  love  with  love.  But  for  the  real  thing  for  daily 
life  I  think  that  simple  folk  must  needs  be  content 
with  the  homelier  variety." 

"  There  is  only  one  sort  of  love,  and  that  is  love," 
said  he.  "  'Tis  a  flower  that  blooms  as  well  in  a 
cottage  garden  as  in  the  parterres  of  a  palace — 
nay,  there  are  plants  that  thrive  best  in  a  poor  soil, 
becoming  stunted  and  losing  their  fragrance  in 
rich  ground,  and  it  hath  oft  seemed  to  me  that 
love  is  such  a  growth." 

"And  yet  I  have  heard  it  said  that  love  flies  out 
at  the  window  when  poverty  comes  in  by  the  door," 
she  said. 

"That  never  was  love;  'twas  something  that 
came  in  the  disguise  of  love." 

"I  do  believe  that  there  are  many  such  sham 
things  prowling  about,  and  knocking  at  such  doors 
as  they  find  well  painted.  Some  of  them  have 
heard  of  silver  being  stored  away  in  old  jugs,  and 
some  have  gone  round  to  the  byres  to  see  exactly 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       155 

how  many  cows  were  there  before  knocking  at  the 
door." 

He  smiled  in  response  to  her  smiling.  And  then 
suddenly  they  both  became  grave. 

"Have  you  had  recent  converse  with  that  man 
Bennet?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

She  swung  the  bird  cage  so  quickly  round  that 
the  doves  were  well-nigh  jerked  off  their  perch. 
She  had  flushed  at  the  same  moment,  and  a  little 
frown  was  upon  the  face  that  she  turned  up  to 
him. 

"  Why  asked  you  that  question?  Is  it  because 
you  were  speaking  of  the  sham  loves,  sir?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  ask  your  pardon  if  I  seem  somewThat  of  a 
busybody,  Nelly  Polwhele,"  he  said.  "  But  the 
truth  is  that  I — I  find  myself  thinking  of  you  at 
times — as  a  father — as  an  elder  brother  migkt 
think  of — a  sweet  sister  of  tender  years." 

Now  she  was  blushing  rosier  than  before,  and 
there  was  no  frown  upon  her  forehead.  But  she 
did  not  lower  her  eyes  or  turn  them  away  from  his 
face.  There  was  about  her  no  sign  of  the  bashful 
country  girl  wrho  has  been  paid  a  compliment  by 
one  above  her  in  rank.  She  did  not  lower  her  eyes ; 
it  was  he  who  lowered  his  before  her. 

"  'Tis  the  truth,  dear  child,  that  I  tell  you :  I  hare 
been  strangely  interested  in  you  since  the  first  day 
I  saw  you,  and  I  have  oft  wondered  what  your 
future  would  be.  I  have  thought  of  you  in  my 
prayers." 

"  I  do  not  deserve  so  much  from  you,  sir,"  she 
said  softly,  and  now  her  eyes  were  on  the  ground, 
and  he  knew  by  the  sound  of  her  voice  that  they 
were  full  of  tears.  She  spoke  softly — jerkily.  "  I 
do  not  deserve  so  much  that  is  good,  though  if  I 


156       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

were  asked  what  thing  on  earth  I  valued  most  I 
should  say  that  it  was  that  you  should  think  well 
of  me." 

"  How  could  I  think  otherwise,  Nelly? "  he 
asked.  "You  gave  me  your  promise  of  your  own 
free  will,  not  to  allow  any  further  longing  after  the 
playhouse  to  take  possession  of  you,  and  I  know 
that  you  have  kept  that  promise.  You  never  missed 
a  preaching  and  you  were  ever  attentive.  I  do  not 
doubt  that  the  seed  sown  in  your  heart  will  bear 
good  fruit.  Then  you  were  thoughtful  for  my  com- 
fort upon  more  than  one  occasion  and — Why 
should  you  not  dwell  in  my  thoughts?  Why 
should  you  not  be  associated  with  my  hopes?  Do 
you  think  that  there  is  any  tenderer  feeling  than 
that  which  a  shepherd  has  for  one  of  his  lambs  that 
he  has  turned  into  the  path  that  leads  to  the  fold?  " 

"  I  am  unworthy,  sir,  I  have  forgotten  your  teach- 
ing even  before  your  words  had  ceased  to  sound  in 
mine  ears.  I  have  not  scrupled  to  deceive.  I  led 
on  John  Bennet  to  believe  that  I  might  relent 
toward  him,  when  all  the  time  I  detested  him." 

"  Why  did  you  do  that?  "  he  asked  gravely. 

"  It  was  to  induce  him  to  come  to  hear  you 
preach,  Mr.  Wesley,"  she  replied.  "  I  thought  that 
it  was  possible  if  he  heard  you  preach  that  he 
might  change  his  ways  as  so  many  others  have 
changed  theirs,  and  so  I  was  led  to  promise  to  allow 
him  to  walk  home  with  me  if  he  came  to  the  preach- 
ing. I  felt  that  I  was  doing  wrong  at  the  time, 
though  it  did  not  seem  so  bad  as  it  does  now." 

"  But  you  did  not  give  him  any  further 
promise?  " 

"None — none  whatsoever.  And  when  I  found 
that  he  was  unaffected  by  your  preaching  I  refused 
him  even  the  small  favour — he  thought  it  a  favour 


— which  I  had  granted  him  before.  But  I  knew 
that  I  was  double-dealing,  and  indeed  I  have  cried 
over  the  thought  of  it,  and  when  I  heard  that  jou 
were  coming  back  I  resolved  to  confess  it  all  to 
you." 

"  I  encountered  the  man  not  more  than  half  an 
hour  ago,"  said  he. 

She  seemed  to  be  surprised. 

"  Then  he  has  broken  the  promise  which  he  made 
to  me,"  she  cried.  "  He  gave  me  his  word  to  for- 
sake this  neighbourhood  for  two  months,  at  least, 
and  I  believed  that  he  went  away." 

"  By  what  means  were  you  able  to  obtain  such 
a  promise  from  him?  "  asked  Wesley. 

She  was  silent  for  some  time — silent  and  ill  at 
ease.  At  last  she  said  slowly: 

"  I  fear  that  I  was  guilty  of  double  dealing  again. 
I  believe  he  went  away  with  the  impression  that  I 
would  think  with  favour  of  him." 

"  I  fear  that  you  meant  to  convey  such  an  im- 
pression to  him,  Nelly." 

"  I  cannot  deny  it  sir.  I  admit  it.  But  I  got 
rid  of  him.  Oh,  if  you  knew  how  he  persecuted  me 
you  would  not  be  hard  on  me." 

"  My  poor  child,  who  am  I  that  I  should  con- 
demn you?  I  do  not  say  that  you  were  not  wrong 
to  deceive  him  as  you  did ;  the  fact  that  your  own 
conscience  tells  you  that  you  were  wrong  proves 
that  you  were." 

"  I  do  not  desire  to  defend  myself,  sir ;  and  per- 
haps it  was  also  wrong  for  me  to  think  as  I  have 
been  thinking  during  the  past  week  or  two  that 
just  as  it  is  counted  an  honourable  thing  for  a  gen- 
eral in  battle  to  hoodwink  his  enemy,  so  it  may  not 
be  quite  fair  to  a  woman  to  call  her  double  dealing 
for  using  the  wits  that  she  has  for  her  own  protec- 


158       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

tion.  Were  we  endowed  with  wits  for  no  purpose, 
do  you  think,  Mr.  Wesley?  " 

Mr.  Wesley,  the  preacher  of  austerity,  settled 
his  countenance — not  without  difficulty — while  he 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pretty  face  that  looked 
up  innocently  to  his  own.  He  shook  his  head  and 
raised  a  finger  of  reproof.  He  began  to  speak  with 
gravity,  his  intention  being  to  assure  her  of  the 
danger  there  was  trying  to  argue  against  the  dic- 
tates of  one's  conscience.  If  cunning  was  the  gift 
of  Nature,  Conscience  was  the  gift  of  God — that 
was  in  his  mind  when  he  began  to  speak. 

"  Child,"  he  began,  "  you  are  in  peril ;  you 
are " 

"A  woman,"  she  cried.  "I  am  a  woman,  and  I 
know  that  there  are  some — they  are  all  men — who 
assert  that  to  be  a  woman  is  to  be  incapable  of  un- 
derstanding an  argument — so  that " 

"  To  be  a  woman  is  to  be  a  creature  that  has  no 
need  of  argument  because  feeling  is  ever  more  po- 
tent than  argument,"  said  he.  "  To  be  a  woman 
is  to  be  a  creature  of  feeling ;  of  grace,  of  tenderness 
— of  womanliness.  If  your  conscience  tells  you 
that  you  were  wrong  to  deceive  John  Bennet,  be 
sure  that  you  were  wrong;  but  Heaven  forbid  that 
I  should  condemn  you  for  acting  as  your  womanly 
wit  prompted.  And  may  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I 
speak  for  once  as  a  man  rather  than  a  preacher. 
'Tis  because  I  have  spoken  so  that  I — I — oh,  if  I 
do  not  run  away  at  once  there  is  no  knowing  where 
I  may  end.  Fare  thee  well,  child;  and  be  sure — 
oh,  be  sure  that  your  conscience  is  your  true  direc- 
tor, not  your  woman's  wits — and  least  of  all,  John 
Wesley,  the  preacher." 

He  laid  his  hand  tenderly  upon  her  head;  then 
suddenly  drew  it  back  with  a  jerk  as  if  he  had  been 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       159 

stung  upon  the  palm.  His  horse  started,  and  he 
made  no  attempt  to  restrain  it,  even  when  it  began 
to  canter.  In  a  few  seconds  he  had  gone  round 
the  bend  on  the  road  beneath  the  trees  that  over- 
hung the  wall  of  the  Trevelyan  demesne. 

He  had  reached  the  house  where  he  was  to  lodge 
before  he  recollected  that  although  he  had  been 
conversing  with  Nelly  Polwhele  for  close  upon 
twenty  minutes — although  they  had  touched  upon 
some  topics  of  common  interest,  neither  of  them 
had  referred  even  in  the  most  distant  way  to  the 
matter  which  had  brought  about  his  return  to  the 
neighbourhood;  neither  of  them  had  so  much  as 
mentioned  the  name  of  Pritchard,  or  referred  to 
his  prophecy  of  the  End  of  all  things. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  a  whole  hour  had  passed  be- 
fore John  Wesley  remembered  that  it  was  neces- 
sary for  him  to  determine  as  speedily  as  possible 
what  form  his  protest  against  the  man  and  his  act 
should  take. 

His  sudden  coming  upon  Nelly  Polwhele  had  left 
a  rather  disturbing  impression  upon  him — at  first 
a  delightfully  disturbing  impression,  and  then  one 
that  added  to  the  gravity  of  his  thoughts — in  fact 
just  such  a  complex  impression  as  is  produced 
upon  an  ordinary  man  when  coming  out  of  the 
presence  of  the  woman  whom  he  loves,  he  knows 
not  why. 

The  sum  of  his  reflections  regarding  their  meet- 
ing was  that  while  he  had  an  uneasy  feeling  thai 
he  had  spoken  too  impulsively  to  her  at  the  moment 
of  parting  from  her,  yet  altogether  he  was  the  better 
of  having  been  with  her.  A  cup  of  cool  water  in 
the  desert — those  were  the  words  that  came  to  him 
when  he  was  alone  in  his  room.  After  the  horri- 
ble scenes  that  he  had  witnessed  while  riding 


161       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

through  the  valley — after  the  horrible  torture  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected  by  the  gibes  of  John 
Bennet — she  had  appeared  before  his  weary  eyes, 
so  fresh,  so  sweet,  so  gracious!  Truly  he  was  the 
better  for  being  near  her,  and  once  more  he 
repeated  the  word: 

*  A  cup  of  cool  water  in  the  desert  land." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

WESLEY  lost  no  time  in  announcing  to  his  friends 
the  decision  to  which  he  had  come.  He  was  to 
preach  on  Sunday  at  the  place  where  his  first  meet- 
ing had  been  held,  and  he  felt  sure  that  his  con- 
gregation would  be  sufficiently  large  for  his  pur- 
pose, which  was  to  let  it  be  known  throughout  the 
country  that  he  and  all  those  who  were  associated 
with  him  in  his  work  in  Cornwall  discountenanced 
Pritchard  in  every  way.  To  be  sure  there  was  very 
little  time  left  to  them  to  spread  abroad  the  news 
that  Mr.  Wesley  had  returned  and  would  preach  on 
Sunday.  Only  a  single  day  remained  to  them,  and 
that  was  not  enough  to  allow  of  the  announcement 
being  made  outside  an  area  of  twenty-five  or  thirty 
miles  from  Porthawn ;  but  when  Mr.  Hartwell  and 
Jake  Pullsford  shook  their  heads  and  doubted  if 
this  preaching  would  bring  together  more  than  a 
few  hundred  people,  these  being  the  inhabitants  of 
the  villages  and  hamlets  within  a  mile  or  twro  of 
Porthawn,  Wesley  explained  that  all  that  was 
necessary  to  be  done  would  be  accomplished  even 
by  a  small  congregation.  All  that  should  be 
aimed  at  was  to  place  it  on  record  that  Pritchard 
had  done  what  he  had  done  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility and  without  any  previous  consultation  with 
the  leader  of  the  movement  w ith  which  he  had  been 
associated.  But,  of  course,  the  more  people  who 
would  be  present  the  more  fully  his  object  would 
be  accomplished,  and  Wesley's  friends  sent  their 
message  with  all  speed  and  in  every  direction. 

161 


"  I  would  fain  believe  that  the  news  of  this  dis- 
tressing folly  of  Pritchard's  has  not  spread  very 
far  abroad,"  said  Wesley.  "  I  travelled,  as  you 
know,  through  a  large  portion  of  the  country  on 
my  return,  and  yet  it  was  not  until  I  had  reached 
the  head  of  the  valley  that  the  least  whisper  of  the 
matter  reached  me;  I  would  fain  hope  that  the 
trouble  will  be  only  local." 

"  Those  who  are  opposed  to  us  will  take  the  best 
of  care  to  prevent  it  from  being  circumscribed," 
said  Mr.  Hartwell.  "  The  captain  of  my  mine 
tells  me  that  there  is  excitement  as  far  away  as 
Falmouth  and  Truro  over  the  prediction.  In  some 
districts  no  work  has  been  done  for  several  days. 
That  news  I  had  this  morning." 

"  'Tis  more  serious  than  I  thought  possible  it 
<:ould  be,"  said  Wesley.  "  Our  task  is  not  an  easy 
one,  but  with  God's  help  it  shall  be  fulfilled." 

Going  forth  through  the  village  in  the  early 
afternoon,  he  was  surprised  to  find  so  much  evi- 
dence of  the  credence  which  the  people  had  given 
to  the  prediction  and  so  pronounced  a  tendency  to 
connect  it  with  the  movement  begun  by  Wesley  in 
the  early  Summer.  It  seemed  to  be  taken  for 
granted  that  Wesley  had  come  back  to  urge  upon 
them  the  need  for  immediate  repentance.  This 
Pritchard  had  done  with  great  vehemence  ever 
since  he  had  prophesied  the  Great  Day. 

Wesley  found  his  old  friends  agitated  beyond 
measure — even  those  who  had  professed  to  have  re- 
ceived the  Word  that  he  had  preached.  No  boats 
except  those  owned  by  Nelly  Polwhele's  father  had 
put  off  to  the  fishing  ground  for  some  days,  and, 
strange  to  say,  although  Isaac  Polwhele  held  that 
Pritchard  had  gone  too  far  in  all  that  he  had  said, 
he  returned  on  Friday  morning  from  his  night's 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED       163 

fishing  with  a  strange  story  of  lights  seen  in  the 
depths  of  the  Channel — something  like  fires  seeth- 
ing beneath  the  surface — of  wonderful  disturb- 
ances of  the  waters,  although  only  the  lightest  of 
breezes  was  hovering  round  the  coast;  and  of  a 
sudden  sound,  thunderous,  with  the  noise  as  of  a 
cataract  tumbling  in  the  distance,  followed  by  the 
rolling  of  large  waves  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  for 
the  time  there  was  not  a  breath  stirring  the  air. 

The  old  fisherman  told  his  story  of  these  things 
without  any  reserve;  but  while  he  was  still  dis- 
posed to  give  a  contemptuous  nod  when  anyone 
mentioned  Pritchard's  name,  his  experience  through 
that  night  had  done  much  to  widen  Pritchard's  in- 
fluence until  at  last  there  seemed  to  be  neither 
fisherman  nor  boat-builder  that  did  not  dread  the 
dawning  of  Monday. 

And  yet  Nelly  had  not  spoken  one  word  about 
the  prophecy  when  he  had  talked  with  her  a  few 
hours  before! 

This  circumstance  caused  Wesley  no  little  sur- 
prise. He  asked  himself  if  Polwhele's  girl  was  the 
only  sensible  person  in  the  neighbourhood.  While 
the  other  people  were  overwhelmed  at  the  prospect 
of  a  catastrophe  on  Monday,  she  had  gone  to  visit 
her  young  ladies  and  brought  back  with  her  a  pair 
of  young  doves. 

He  began  to  feel  that  he  had  never  given  the  girl 
credit  for  some  of  those  qualities  which  she  pos- 
sessed— qualities  which  certainly  are  not  shared 
by  the  majority  of  womankind. 

Her  father  told  him  before  he  had  reached  the 
village  something  of  the  marvels  which  had  come 
under  his  notice  only  two  nights  before.  But  he 
tried  to  make  it  plain  that  he  did  not  attach  any 
great  importance  to  them :  he  did  not  regard  them 


164       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

as  portents,  however  other  people  might  be  dis- 
posed to  do  so.  The  old  fisherman  was  shrewd 
enough  to  guess  that  Mr.  Wesley's  sympathies  were 
not  with  Pritchard.  Still  he  could  not  deny  that 
what  he  had  seen  and  heard  surpassed  all  his  ex- 
perience of  the  Channel,  although  he  allowed  that 
he  had  heard  of  the  like  from  the  lips  of  mariners 
who  had  voyaged  far  and  wide,  and  had  probably 
been  disbelieved  in  both  hemispheres,  by  the  best 
judges  of  wrhat  was  credible.  He  had  heard,  for 
instance,  of  parallels  where  through  long  sultry 
nights  the  ocean  had  seemed  one  mass  of  flame. 
But  he  himself  was  no  deep-sea  sailor. 

"  A  sea  of  flame  is  common  enough  in  some  quar- 
ters," said  Wesley.  "  I  myself  have  seen  the  At- 
lantic palpitating  like  a  furnace,  and  our  ship 
dashed  flakes  of  fire  from  the  waters  that  were 
cloven  by  her  cut-water.  But  the  sounds  which 
you  say  you  heard — think  you  not  that  they  came 
from  a  distant  thunderstorm?" 

"  Likely  enough,  sir,  likely  enough,"  replied  the 
man  after  a  pause;  but  he  spoke  in  a  way  that  as- 
sured Mr.  Wesley  that  he  knew  very  well  that  the 
sounds  had  not  come  from  a  thunderstorm,  how- 
ever distant.  He  had  had  plenty  of  experience  of 
thunderstorms,  near  at  hand  as  well  as  far  off. 

"  Or  Admiral  Hawke's  ships — might  not  some  of 
the  Admiral's  fleet  have  come  within  a  mile  or  two 
of  the  coast  and  discharged  their  carronades? " 
Wesley  suggested. 

"  Ay,  sir,  the  boom  of  a  ship's  gun  carries  a  long 
way  on  the  water,"  said  the  fisherman,  but  in  a 
tone  that  suggested  graver  doubt  than  before. 

"  'Tis  clear  you  are  convinced  that  what  you 
heard  was  stranger  than  either  thunder  or  gun- 
powder," said  he. 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   165 

"  Nay,  sir,  what  I  am  thinking  of  is  the  sudden 
uprise  of  the  sea,"  said  Polwhele.  "  Without  warn- 
ing our  smack  began  to  sway  so  that  the  mast  well- 
nigh  went  by  the  board,  albeit  there  was  ne'er  a 
draught  o'  wind.  And  there  was  summat  besides 
that  I  kept  back  from  all  the  world." 

"A  greater  mystery  still?  "  said  Wesley. 

"  The  biggest  of  all,  sir ;  after  the  last  rumblings 
my  mates  thought  that  we  had  been  long  enough 
anchored  on  the  fishing  bank;  so  we  got  in  the 
grapple  and  laid  out  sweeps  to  pull  the  smack  to 
the  shore." 

He  made  another  pause,  and  looked  into  the  face 
of  his  auditor  and  then  out  seawards.  He  took  a 
step  or  two  away  and  stood  thoughtfully  with 
pursed  out  lips. 

"And  then?  "  said  Wesley. 

"  And  then,  sir,  then — sir,  the  oar  blades  refused 
to  sink.  They  struck  on  something  hard,  though 
not  with  the  hardness  of  a  rock  or  even  a  sand  bank. 
'Twas  like  as  if  they  had  fallen  on  a  floating  dead 
body — I  know  what  the  feel  is,  sir.  When  the 
Gloriana,  East  Indiaman,  went  ashore  forty  years 
agone,  and  broke  up  on  the  Teeth — you  know  the 
reef,  sir — we  were  coming  on  the  bodies  o'  the  crew 
for  weeks  after,  as  they  came  to  the  surface,  as 
bodies  will  after  eight  days — some  say  ten,  but  I 
stick  to  eight." 

"  But  if  you  came  upon  the  body  of  a  drowned 
man  the  night  before  last  you  would  surely  have 
reported  it,  Polwhele,"  said  Wesley. 

"  It  wrere  dead  bodies  that  we  touched  wi?  our 
blades,  but  they  was  the  dead  bodies  of  fishes. 
There  they  floated,  sir,  thick  as  jelly  bags  after  a 
Spring  tide — hundreds  of  them — thousands  of  them 
— all  round  the  boats — big  and  little — mackerel 


and  cod  and  congers  and  skates  and  some  monsters 
that  I  had  never  seen  before,  with  mighty  heads. 
They  held  the  boat  by  their  numbers,  blocking  its 
course  till  we  got  up  a  flare  o'  pitch  and  held  it  out 
on  an  oar  and  saw  what  was  the  matter.  That  was 
how  it  came  about  that  we  landed  with  fish  up  to 
the  gunwale,  though  we  had  hauled  in  empty  seines 
— or  well-nigh  empty  half  an  hour  before.  And  if 
all  the  other  boats  had  been  out  that  night  they 
would  have  been  filled  likewise.  I  tell  you,  sir,  all 
we  picked  up  made  no  difference  to  the  shoals  that 
was  about  us.  But  I  said  no  word  to  mortal  man 
about  this  event  nor  e'en  to  my  own  wife.  What 
would  be  the  good?  I  asks  you,  sir.  The  poor 
folk  be  troubled  enow  over  Dick  Pritchard,  as  no 
doubt  you  heard.  I  would  that  Tuesday  was  safe 
o'er  us.  List,  you  can  hear  the  voice  o'  Simon  Bar- 
well  baying  the  boys  into  the  fold  like  a  sheep  dog. 
Simon  was  a  sad  evil  liver  before  he  heard  you 
preach,  sir,  and  now  he's  telling  the  lads  that  they 
have  only  another  day  and  half  to  repent,  so  they'd 
best  not  put  it  off  too  long." 

Wesley  looked  in  the  direction  he  indicated  and 
saw  a  young  fellow  mounted  on  a  fish  barrel, 
haranguing  a  group  of  men  and  women.  He  was 
far  off,  but  his  voice  every  nowr  and  again  reached 
the  place  where  Wesley  and  the  old  man  stood. 

"  There  be  some  that  holds  that  Simon  himself 
would  ha'  done  well  to  begin  his  repentance  a  while 
back,"  resumed  Polwhele.  "  And  there's  some 
others  that  must  needs  scamp  their  penitence,  if  I 
have  a  memory  at  all;  howsomever,  Dick  Pritch- 
ard  " 

"  Ah,  friend,"  said  Wesley,  "  if  I  could  think  that 
the  repentance  wrhich  is  being  brought  about 
through  fear  of  Monday  will  last,  I  would  take  joy 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       167 

to  stand  by  the  side  of  Pritchard  and  learn  from 
him,  but  alas,  I  fear  that  when  Monday  comes  and 
goes " 

"  But  will  it  come  and  go?  "  cried  the  old  man 
eagerly. 

"  I  cannot  tell — no  man  living  can  tell  if  to-mor- 
row will  come  and  go,  or  if  he  will  live  to  see  the 
day  dawn.  We  know  so  much,  but  no  more,  and  I 
hold  that  any  man  who  says  that  he  knows  more  is 
tempting  the  Lord." 

"  And  I  hold  with  you,  Mr.  Wesley ;  only  not  al- 
together so  fast  since  those  happenings  I  have  re- 
hearsed to  you.  What  was  it  slew  them  fish,  sir?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  that.  I  have  heard  that  some 
of  your  mines  are  pierced  far  below  the  sea,  and 
that  for  miles  out.  Perhaps  we  shall  hear  that  a 
store  of  gunpowder  exploded  in  one  of  them,  throw- 
ing off  the  roof  and  killing  the  fish  in  the  water 
over  it — I  do  not  say  that  this  is  the  only  explana- 
tion of  the  matter.  I  make  no  pretence  to  account 
for  all  that  you  saw  and  heard.  I  have  heard  of 
earthquakes  beneath  the  water." 

"  Earthquakes  in  divers  places,  Mr.  Wesley, 
'twas  from  that  text  Dick  Pritchard  preached  last 
Sunday."  The  man's  voice  was  lowered,  and  there- 
was  something  of  awe  in  his  whisper.  "  He 
prophesied  that  there  would  be  an  earthquake  in 
divers  places — meaning  the  sea — before  the  coming" 
of  the  terrible  day,  Monday  next.  Now  you  know, 
sir,  why  I  said  naught  that  was  particular — only 
hazy  like — that  none  could  seize  hold  upon  about 
Thursday's  fishing.  But  I've  told  your  Mr.  Wes- 
ley, whatever  may  happen." 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  walked  away,  when  he 
had  looked  for  some  moments  into  Wesley's-  facey 
and  noted  the  expression  that  it  wore. 


168       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

And,  indeed,  Wesley  was  perturbed  as  he  turned 
and  went  up  the  little  track  that  led  to  the  summit 
of  the  cliffs,  and  the  breezy  space  that  swept  up  to 
the  wood.  He  was  greatly  perturbed  by  the  plain 
statement  of  the  fisherman.  He  had  been  anxious 
to  take  the  most  favourable  view  of  Pritchard  and 
his  predictions.  He  had  believed  that  the  man, 
however  foolish  and  vain  he  might  be,  had  been 
sincere  in  his  conviction  that  he  was  chosen  by 
Heaven  to  prophesy  the  approaching  end  of  all 
things;  but  now  the  impression  was  forced  upon 
him  that  the  man  was  on  a  level  with  the  sooth- 
sayers of  heathendom. 

Even  though  he  had  taken  a  ludicrously  illiterate 
view  of  the  text,  "  There  shall  be  earthquakes  in 
divers  places,"  he  had  made  it  the  subject  of  an- 
other prediction,  and  it  seemed  as  if  this  prediction 
had  actually  been  realised,  although  only  a  single 
fisherman,  and  he  a  friend  of  Pritchard's,  was  in  a 
position  to  testify  to  it 

Wesley  had  heard  it  said  more  than  once  that  the 
finding  of  water  by  the  aid  of  a  divining  rod  was  a 
devil's  trick ;  but  he  had  never  taken  such  a  view  of 
the  matter ;  he  affirmed  that  he  would  be  slow  to  be- 
lieve that  a  skill  which  had  for  its  object  so  excel- 
lent an  object  as  the  finding  of  a  spring  of  the  most 
blessed  gift  of  water,  should  be  attributed  to  the 
Enemy.  He  preferred  to  assume  that  the  finding 
of  water  was  the  result  of  a  certain  delicacy  of  per- 
ception on  the  part  of  the  man  with  the  hazel  wand, 
just  as  the  detection  of  a  false  harmony  in  music  is 
due  to  a  refinement  of  the  sense  of  hearing  on  the 
part  of  other  men. 

But  was  he  to  believe  that  any  man  possessed 
such  a  sense  as  enabled  him  to  predict  an  earth- 
quake? 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       1G9 

It  was  impossible  for  him  to  believe  it.  And 
what  then  was  he  to  think  of  the  man  who  had  fore- 
told such  an  event — an  event  which  had  actually 
taken  place  within  a  week  of  his  prediction? 

The  man  could  only  be  a  soothsayer.  The  very 
fact  of  his  corrupting  the  text  out  of  the  Sacred 
Word  was  a  proof  of  this.  If  he  were  in  the  serv- 
ice of  God,  he  would  never  have  mistaken  the  word 
in  the  text  to  mean  the  sea.  The  man  was  a  servant 
of  the  Evil  One,  and  Wesley  felt  once  more  that  he 
himself  had  been  to  blame  in  admitting  him  to  his 
fellowship,  without  subjecting  him  to  such  tests  as 
would  have  proved  his  faith. 

And  then  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
further  question :  If  the  man  had,  by  reason  of 
his  possession  of  a  certain  power,  achieved  success 
in  his  forecast  of  one  extraordinary  event,  was  it  to 
be  assumed  that  the  other  event — the  one  of  supreme 
importance  to  the  world,  and  all  that  dwell  therein 
— would  also  take  place? 

What,  was  it  possible  that  the  Arch  Enemy  had 
been  able  to  get  possession  of  the  secret  which  not 
even  the  angels  in  heaven  had  fathomed,  and  had 
chosen  this  man  to  communicate  it  to  some  people 
in  the  world? 

What,  was  it  possible  that  Satan,  if  he  acquired 
that  secret,  would  allow  it  to  be  revealed,  thereby 
losing  his  hold  upon  as  many  of  the  people  of  the 
world  as  became  truly  repentant,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  that  Pritchard  had  urged  repentance  upon 
the  people? 

It  was  a  tangled  web  that  Wesley  found  in  his 
hand  this  day.  No  matter  which  end  of  it  he  began 
to  work  upon,  his  difficulties  in  untangling  seemed 
the  same.  He  was  fearful  of  doing  the  man  an  in- 
justice; but  how  could  he,  as  a  faithful  servant, 


170       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

stand  by  and  see  the  work  with  which  he  had  been 
entrusted,  wrecked  and  brought  to  naught? 

And  then  another  point  suggested  itself  to  him : 
what  if  this  prediction  became  the  means  of  calling 
many  to  repentance — true  repentance — how  dread- 
ful would  be  his  own  condemnation  if  he  were  to 
oppose  that  which  had  been  followed  by  blessing! 

It  was  the  flexibility  and  the  ceaseless  activity 
of  his  mind  that  increased  the  difficulties  of  his 
position.  He,  and  he  only,  could  look  at  the  matter 
from  every  standpoint  and  appreciate  it  in  all  its 
bearings.  If  he  had  not  had  the  refuge  of  prayer, 
having  faith  that  he  would  receive  the  Divine  guid- 
ance, he  would  have  allowed  the  vanity — if  it  was 
vanity — of  Pritchard  to  be  counteracted  in  the 
ordinary — in  what  seemed  to  be  the  natural  way — 
namely,  by  the  ridicule  which  would  follow  the  non- 
fulfilment  of  his  prophecy. 

He  prayed. 


CHAPTER   XV 

HE  had  seated  himself  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen' 
tree  on  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  he  had  a  feeling 
that  he  was  not  alone.  The  Summer  ever  seemed  to 
him  to  be  a  spiritual  essence — a  beautiful  creature 
of  airy  flashing  draperies,  diffusing  perfumes  as 
she  went  by.  He  had  known  the  joy  of  her  compan- 
ionship for  several  years,  for  no  man  had  ampler 
opportunities  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the* 
seasons  in  all  their  phases. 

There  was  the  sound  of  abundance  of  life  in  the' 
woods  behind  him,  and  around  the  boles  of  the  scat- 
tered trees  in  front  of  him  the  graceful  little  stoats 
were  playing.  At  his  feet  were  scattered  all  the* 
wild  flowers  of  the  meadow.  Where  the  earth  was* 
brown  under  the  trees,  myriads  of  fairy  bells  were 
hanging  in  clusters,  and  in  the  meadow  the  yellow 
buttercups  shone  like  spangles  upon  a  garment  of 
green  velvet.  He  was  not  close  enough  to  the  brink 
of  the  cliffs  to  be  able  to  see  the  purple  and  blue 
and  pink  of  the  flowers  scattered  among  the  coarse 
herbage  of  the  rocks.  But  the  bank  of  gorse  that 
flowed  like  a  yellow  river  through  the  meadow 
could  not  be  ignored.  In  the  sunlight  it  was  a- 
glory  to  see. 

The  sky  was  faintly  grey,  but  the  sea  was  of  the 
brightest  azure — the  pure  translucent  blue  of  the 
sapphire,  and  it  was  alive  with  the  light  that  seemed 
to  burn  subtly  within  the  heart  of  a  great  jewel. 
But  in  the  utter  distance  it  became  grey  until  it 
mingled  imperceptibly  with  the  sky. 

171 


172       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

The  poet-preacher  saw  everything  that  there  was 
to  be  seen,  and  his  faith  was  upheld  as  it  ever  was, 
by  the  gracious  companionship  of  nature,  and  he 
cried  now: 

"  Oh,  that  a  man  could  speak  to  men  in  the 
language  of  the  Summer !  " 

Why  could  not  all  eyes  of  men  look  forth  over 
that  sea  to  where  the  heaven  bowed  down  and 
mingled  with  it?  Why  could  not  men  learn  what 
was  meant  by  this  symbol  of  the  mystic  marriage 
of  heaven  and  earth?  Why  should  they  continue 
to  refuse  the  love  which  was  offered  them  from 
above? 

Everything  that  he  saw  was  a  symbol  to  him  of 
the  love  of  which  he  was  the  herald — the  love  which 
is  followed  by  a  peace  that  passeth  all  understand- 
ing. He  was  conscious  of  this  peace  leaning  over 
him  with  outstretched  wings,  and  he  felt  that  the 
answer  to  his  prayer  had  come.  He  would  make 
no  further  attempt  to  solve  the  difficulties  which 
had  perplexed  him.  The  voice  that  breathed  the 
message  that  soothed  him  was  the  same  that  Eli- 
jah heard,  and  it  said: 

"  Rest  in  the  Lord,  and  He  shall  direct  thy  ways." 

He  remained  there  for  another  hour,  and  then 
rose  and  made  his  way  slowly  toward  the  village. 

The  meadow  track  led  to  a  broad  gap  in  the  hedge 
of  gorse,  and  just  as  he  had  passed  through,  he  was 
aware  of  the  quick  pattering  of  a  galloping  horse 
on  the  short  grass  behind  him,  and  before  he  had 
time  to  turn,  the  horseman  had  put  his  mount  to  the 
hedge,  making  a  clear  jump  of  it. 

"  What,  ho ! "  cried  the  man,  apparently  recog- 
nising Wesley  before  the  horse's  feet  had  reached 
the  ground.  "  What,  ho !  "  and  he  pulled  the  ani- 
mal to  its  haunches. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       173 

Wesley  saw  that  he  was  Parson  Rodney,  the  good- 
humoured  Rector  who  had  spoken  to  him  when 
he  had  been  on  the  road  with  Nelly  six  weeks  before. 

"  Ho,  Mr.  Wesley,  I  had  heard  that  you  were 
returning  to  us,"  he  cried.  "  Is  it  your  thought 
that  at  Monday's  Assize  you  will  run  a  better  chance 
if  you  are  found  in  good  company?  What,  sir, 
never  shake  your  head  in  so  gloomy  a  fashion. 
The  Prophet  Pritchard  may  be  wrong.  I  was 
thinking  of  him  when  I  came  upon  a  clump  of 
guzzlers  reeling  along  the  road  an  hour  ago — reel- 
ing along  with  the  buttercups  as  yellow  as  gold 
under  their  feet,  and  the  sunlight  bringing  out  all 
the  scents  of  the  earth  that  we  love  so  well — I 
thought  what  a  pity  'twould  be  if  the  world  should 
come  to  an  end  when  all  her  creatures  are  so 
happy ! " 

"  Pardon  me,  Reverend  sir,"  said  Wesley.  "  But 
I  have  at  heart  too  much  sorrow  to  enjoy  any  jest, 
least  of  all  one  made  upon  a  matter  that  seems  to 
me  far  too  solemn  for  jesting." 

"  Pshaw !  Mr.  Wesley,  what  is  there  serious  or 
solemn  in  the  vapourings  of  a  jackanapes?  "  cried 
the  other.  "  What  doth  a  parson  of  our  church — 
and  a  learned  parson  into  the  bargain — a  Fellow  of 
his  College — not  a  dunce  like  me — what,  I  say,  doth 
such  an  one  with  the  maunderings  of  a  vain  and 
unlettered  bumpkin  whom  his  very  godfathers  and 
godmothers  made  a  mark  for  ridicule  when  they 
had  him  christened  Richard — Richard  Pritchard?" 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  Wesley,  "  you  witnessed  what 
you  did  an  hour  ago  on  the  roadside — you  saw  what 
I  saw,  and  yet  you  can  ask  me  why  I  should  be 
troubled.  Were  not  you  troubled,  Mr.  Rodney?  " 

"Troubled?  Oh,  ay;  my  horse  became  uneasy 
when  one  of  the  drunken  rascals  yelled  out  a  ribald 


174      TO®    LOVE   THAT   PREVAILED 

word  or  two  across  the  hedge — I  am  very  careful 
.of  my  horse's  morals,  sir ;  I  never  let  him  hear  any 
bad  language.  When  we  are  out  with  the  hounds 
I  throw  my  kerchief  over  his  ears  when  we  chance 
"to  be  nigh  the  Master  or  his  huntsmen.  That  is 
why  I  laid  over  the  rascal's  shoulders  with  my  crop, 
though  the  hedge  saved  them  from  much  that  I  in- 
tended. Trust  me,  Mr.  Wesley,  that  is  the  way 
£uch  fellows  should  be  treated,  and  as  for  this 
Pritchard — faugh!  a  horsewhip  on  his  back  would 
bring  him  to  his  senses,  though  as  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  I  would  be  disposed  to  let  this  precious 
water-finder  find  what  the  nature  of  a  horse-pond 
is  like.  Why,  in  Heaven's  name,  do  you  trouble 
yourself  about  him?  " 

"  It  was  I  who  gave  him  countenance  at  first,  sir. 
He  made  profession  to  me  and  I  trusted  him.  I 
fear  that  the  work  on  behalf  of  which  I  am  very 
jealous  may  suffer  through  his  indiscretion." 

"  His  indiscretion?  your  indiscretion,  you  surely 
mean,  Mr.  Wesley." 

"  I  accept  your  correction,  sir." 

"  Look  ye  here,  Mr.  Wesley,  I  have  more  respect 
for  you,  sir,  than  J  have  for  any  man  of  our  cloth 
— ay,  even  though  he  may  wear  an  apron  and  lawn 
gleeves.  I  know  that  as  a  clergyman  I  am  not  fit 
to  black  your  shoes,  but  I  am  equally  sure  that  as 
0,  man  of  the  world,  with  a  good  working  knowledge 
of  human  nature,  I  am  beyond  you;  and  that  is 
why  I  tell  you  that  this  movement  of  yours  has — 
well,  it  has  too  much  movement  in  it  to  prove  a 
lasting  thing.  You  have  never  ridden  to  hounds 
or  you  would  know  that  'tis  slow  and  steady  that 
does  it.  If  you  keep  up  the  pace  from  the  start, 
jou  will  be  blown  before  the  first  half-hour  is  over, 
And  where  will  you  be  when  you  Jiaye  a  double  ditch 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       175 

to  "hop  over?  Why,  you'll  be  up  to  your  neck  in 
the  mire  of  the  first.  Mr.  Wesley,  there  are  a  good 
many  ditches  to  be  got  over  in  the  life  of  a  beneficed 
clergyman  of  your  Church  and  mine ;  and,  my  word 
for  it,  you  would  do  well  to  take  them  slowly,  and 
reserve  your  strength.  You  want  to  go  too  fast 
ahead — to  rush  your  hedges — that's  how  the  thorns 
in  the  flesh  thrive,  and  this  Pritchard  is  only  one 
of  the  many  thorns  that  will  make  your  life  weari- 
some to  you,  and  bring  your  movement  to  an  end. 
You  have  never  said  a  hard  word  about  me,  Mr. 
Wesley,  though  you  had  good  reason  to  do  so;  and 
I  have  never  said  aught  but  what  is  good  about 
you." 

"  I  know  it,  sir.  Others  have  called  me  a  busy- 
body— some  a  charlatan." 

"  They  were  fools.  You  are  the  most  admirable 
thing  in  the  world,  sir — a  zealous  parson;  but  a 
thoroughbred  horse  is  not  the  best  for  daily  use;  a 
little  blood  is  excellent,  but  not  too  much.  Your 
zeal  will  wear  you  out — ay,  and  it  will  wear  your 
listeners  out  sooner.  You  cannot  expect  to  lead  a 
perpetual  revival,  as  people  call  it,  and  that's  why 
I  am  convinced  that  the  humdrum  system,  with  a 
stout  woollen  petticoat  here  and  a  bottle  of  sound 
port  there,  is  the  best  for  the  parsons  and  the  best 
for  the  people." 

"  Your  views  are  shrewd,  and  I  dare  not  at  this 
moment  say  that  they  are  not  justifiable.  But  for 
myself — sir,  if  God  gives  me  strength,  I  shall  not 
slacken  the  work  with  which  I  believe  He  hath  en- 
trusted me — until  our  churches  are  filled  with 
men  and  women  eager  in  their  search  after  the 
Truth." 

"  If  all  your  friends  were  like  you,  the  thing 
might  be  accomplished,  Mr.  Wesley ;  but  the  break- 


176       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

down  of  your  methods — your  Methodism — will 
come  through  your  introduction  of  the  laity  as  your 
chief  workers.  You  will  find  yourself  face  to  face 
with  Pritchards,  and  the  last  state  of  the  people 
will  be,  as  it  is  now,  worse  than  the  first.  You 
may  have  done  some  good  since  you  came  here  to 
preach  a  month  ago,  but  you  have — unwittingly, 
I  say — done  great  mischief.  My  parishioners  were 
heretofore  living  quite  comfortably,  they  were  sat- 
isfied with  my  ministrations,  such  as  they  were.  I 
have  heard  it  said  that  a  healthy  man  does  not  know 
that  he  has  any  liver  or  spleen  or  vitals  within  his 
body:  'tis  only  the  sick  that  have  that  knowledge. 
Well,  the  same  is  true  in  respect  to  their  souls. 
Sir,  there  was  not  a  man  of  my  flock  that  knew  he 
had  a  soul.  There  was  a  healthy  condition  of 
things  for  you !  " 

"  Sir,  I  entreat  of  you  not  to  mock !  " 
"  I  am  not  mocking,  friend  Wesley.  What  have 
people  in  the  state  of  life  to  which  the  majority 
of  my  parishioners  have  been  called,  to  do  with  the 
state  of  their  souls?  There  should  be  a  law  that 
no  man  below  the  Game  Law  qualification  shall 
assume  that  he  has  a  soul." 

"  I  cannot  listen  further  to  you,  Mr.  Rodney." 
"Nay,  Mr.  Wesley,  whatever  you  be,  I'll  swear 
that  you  are  no  coward :  you  will  not  run  away  by 
reason  of  not  agreeing  with  an  honest  opponent — 
and  I  am  not  an  opponent — I  am  only  an  honest 
friend.  I  say  that  my  people  were  simple,  homely 
people  who  respected  me  because  I  never  wittingly 
awoke  a  man  or  woman  who  went  asleep  in  my 
church,  and  because  I  never  bothered  them  with 
long  sermons,  when  they  could  hear  their  Sunday 
dinners  frizzling  in  their  cottages — they  respected 
me  for  that,  but  more  because  they  knew  I  had  a 


sound  knowledge  of  a  horse,  a  boat,  a  dog  and  a 
game-cock." 

"  Mr.  Kodney " 

"  Pshaw,  Wesley,  have  you  not  eyes  to  see  that 
the  Church  of  England  exists  more  for  the  bodies 
than  the  souls  of  the  people?  I  would  rather  see 
a  good,  sturdy  lot  of  Englishmen  in  England — 
good  drinkers  of  honest  ale,  breeders  of  good  fat 
cattle,  and  growers  of  golden  wheat — honest,  hard 
swearers  of  honest  English  oaths,  and  with  self- 
respect  enough  to  respect  their  betters — I  would 
rather  have  them  such,  I  say,  than  snivelling,  rant- 
ing Nonconformists,  prating  about  their  souls  and 
showing  the  whites  of  their  eyes  when  they  hear 
that  an  educated  man,  who  is  a  gentleman  first  and 
a  parson  afterwards,  follows  the  hounds,  relishes 
a  main  in  the  cockpit,  and  a  rubber  of  whist  in  the 
rectory  parlour  and  preaches  the  gospel  of  fair  play 
for  ten  minutes  in  his  pulpit,  and  the  rest  of  the 
twenty-four  hours  out  of  it." 

"  And  I,  Mr.  Kodney,  would  rather  hear  of  the 
saving  of  a  sinner's  soul  by  a  Nonconformist  ranter, 
Churchman  though  I  be,  than  see  the  whole  nation 
living  in  comfortable  forgetfulness  of  God." 

Parson  Rodney  laughed. 

"  I  will  give  you  another  year  of  riding  to  and 
fro  and  telling  the  peasantry  that  they  have  souls," 
he  said.  "  You  will  not  make  us  a  nation  of  spirit- 
ual hypochondriacs,  Mr.  Wesley.  For  a  while 
people  will  fancy  that  there  is  something  the  matter 
with  them,  and  you'll  hear  a  deal  of  groaning  and 
moaning  at  your  services ;  but  when  the  novelty  of 
the  thing  is  gone,  they  will  cease  to  talk  of  their 
complaints.  Englishmen  are  stronger  in  their 
bodies  than  in  their  souls,  and  the  weaker  element 
will  go  to  the  wall,  and  your  legs  will  be  crushed 


178       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

.against  that  same  wall  by  the  asses  you  are  riding. 
Why,  already  I  know  that  you  have  suffered  a 
bruise  or  two,  through  the  shambling  of  that  ass 
whose  name  is  Pritchard.  The  unprofitable 
prophet  Pritchard.  A  prophet?  Well,  'tis  not  the 
first  time  that  an  ass  thought  himself  a  prophet, 
and  began  to  talk  insolently  to  his  master.  But 
Balaam's  animal  was  a  hand  or  two  higher  than  his 
brother  Pritchard ;  when  he  began  to  talk  he  proved 
himself  no  ass,  but  the  moment  the  other  opens  his 
mouth,  he  stands  condemned.  Lay  on  him  with 
.your  staff,  Mr.  Wesley ;  he  has  sought  to  make  a  fool 
of  you  without  the  excuse  that  there  is  an  angel  in 
.your  way.  I  have  half  a  mind  to  give  his  hide  a 
trouncing  myself  to-morrow,  only  I  could  not  do 
tso  without  giving  a  «ut  at  you,  who  are,  just  now, 
holding  on  by  his  tail,  hoping  to  hold  him  back  in 
his  fallow,  and,  believe  me,  sir,  I  respect  you  with 
all  my  heart,  and  envy  your  zeal.  Good-day  to  you, 
Mr.  Wesley;  I  hope  I  may  live  to  see  you  in  good 
living  yet;  if  you  worry  to  a  sufficient  degree  the 
powers  that  be,  they  will  assuredly  make  you  a 
Dean,  hoping  that  in  a  Cathedral  Close,  where 
everything  slumbers,  you  will  fold  your  hands  and 
sleep  comfortably  like  the  rest.  I  doubt  if  you 
would,  sir.  But  meantime  if  you  will  come  to  my 
humble  rectory  this  evening,  I  can  promise  you  a 
rubber  with  a  good  partner,  and  a  bottle  of  Bor- 
deaux that  the  King  of  France  might  envy,  but  that 
has  paid  no  duty  to  the  King  of  England." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  invitation,  sir ;  but  you 
know  that  I  cannot  accept  it." 

"  I  feared  as  much,  sir.  But  never  mind,  I  hope 
that  I  shall  live  until  you  are  compelled  to  accept 
my  offer  of  hospitality  to  you  as  my  Bishop." 

He  waved  his  hand,  and  gave  his  horse,  who  had 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       179 

never  heard  his  master  talk  for  so  long  a  time  at  a 
stretch  and  whose  impatience  had  for  some  time 
given  way  to  astonishment,  a  touch  with  the  spur. 
Wesley  watched  him  make  a  beautiful  jump  over 
the  gate  that  led  into  the  park,  beyond  which  the 
rectory  nestled  on  the  side  of  a  hill  among  its 
orchards. 

He  turned  with  a  sigh  to  the  cliff  path  leading  be- 
yond the  village  to  where  Mr.  Hartwell's  house 
stood,  separated  from  the  beach  only  by  a  wall  of 
crags,  and  a  few  rows  of  weather-beaten  trees,  all 
stretching  rather  emaciated  arms  inland. 


CHAPTEK    XVI 

WESLEY  had  preached  under  varying  conditions 
in  different  parts  of  England,  but  never  under  such 
as  prevailed  on  this  Sunday,  when  he  set  out  in  the 
early  morning  with  his  friend,  Mr.  Hartwell,  for 
the  pulpit  among  the  crags  which  he  had  occupied 
several  times  during  his  previous  stay  at  Porthawn. 

When  he  set  out  from  the  Hartwells'  house  the 
grey  sea-mist,  which  had  been  rolling  round  the 
coast  and  through  the  valley  of  the  Lana  for  several 
days  past,  was  as  thick  as  a  fog.  It  was  dense  and 
confusing  to  one  who  faced  it  for  the  first  time.  It 
was  so  finely  grey  that  one  seemed  to  see  through  it 
at  first,  and  boldly  plunged  into  its  depths ;  but  the 
instant  that  one  did  so,  its  folds  closed  over  one  as 
the  dense  waters  of  the  sea  do  over  a  diver,  and  one 
was  lost.  Before  one  had  recovered,  one  had  the 
feeling  of  being  smothered  in  a  billow  of  grey  gauze, 
smooth  as  silk  that  has  been  dipped  in  milk,  and 
gasped  within  the  windings  of  its  folds.  It  was 
chilly,  with  the  taste  of  the  salt  sea  in  its  moisture. 
It  took  the  heart  out  of  one. 

"  This  is  nothing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell.  "  Lay 
your  hand  upon  my  arm  and  you  will  have  no 
trouble:  I  could  find  my  way  along  our  cliffs 
through  the  thickest  weather.  I  have  been  put  to 
the  test  before  now." 

"  I  am  not  thinking  so  much  of  ourselves  as  of 
our  friends  whom  we  expect  to  meet  us  in  the  val- 
ley," said  Wesley.  "  How,  think  you,  will  they  be 
able  to  find  their  wray  under  such  conditions?  " 

"  I  do  not  assume  that  this  mist  is  more  than  a 

180 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEYAILED       181 

temporary  thing — it  comes  from  the  sea  well-nigh 
every  Summer  morn,  but  perishes  as  it  rolls  over 
the  cliffs,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell. 

"  It  was  clinging  to  the  ridges  of  the  valley  slopes 
when  I  rode  through,  almost  at  noon  yesterday," 
said  Wesley. 

"  Stragglers  from  the  general  army  that  we  have 
to  encounter  here,"  said  the  other.  "When  the 
phalanx  of  sea-mist  rolls  inland,  it  leaves  its  tat- 
tered remnants  of  camp  followers  straggling  in  its 
wake.  I  believe  that  when  we  reach  the  place  we 
shall  find  ourselves  bathed  in  sunshine." 

"  May  your  surmise  prove  correct !  "  said  Wesley. 

And  so  they  started  breaking  into  the  mist,  feel- 
ing its  salt  touch  upon  their  faces  and  hearing  the 
sound  of  the  waves  breaking  on  the  beach  below 
them.  It  was  curiously  hollow,  and  every  now  and 
then  amid  the  noise  of  the  nearer  waves,  there  came 
the  deep  boom  from  the  distant  caves,  and  the  sob 
of  the  waters  that  were  choked  in  the  narrow  pas- 
sage between  the  cliffs  and  the  shoreward  limits 
of  the  Dog's  Teeth. 

They  had  not  gone  more  than  half  a  mile  along 
the  track  that  led  to  the  pack  horse  road ,  when  they 
heard  the  sound  of  voices,  near  at  hand,  with  a  faint 
and  still  fainter  far-off  hail.  The  next  moment 
they  almost  ran  into  a  mixed  party  of  travellers  on 
the  same  track. 

Mr.  Hartwell  was  acquainted  with  some  of  them. 
They  came  from  a  hamlet  high  up  in  the  valley  a 
mile  from  Ruthallion. 

"  We  are  bound  for  the  preaching,"  said  one  of 
them.  "  What  a  wandering  we  have  had  for  the 
past  two  hours!  We  lost  our  way  twice  and  only 
recovered  ourselves  when  we  gained  the  horse 
road." 


182       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

"  We  are  going  to  the  preaching  also,"  said  Mr. 
Hartwell. 

"  How  then  does  it  come  that  we  meet  you  in- 
stead of  overtaking  you?  "  asked  the  other. 

There  was  a  silence.  The  halloa  in  the  distance 
became  fainter. 

"  One  of  us  must  be  wrong,"  said  Wesley. 

"  We  don't  match  our  knowledge  against  Mr. 
Hartwell's,"  said  the  spokesman  of  the  strangers. 

"  I  am  confident  that  I  know  the  way,"  said  Mr. 
Hartwell.  "  I  only  left  the  main  track  once,  and 
that  was  to  cut  off  the  round  at  Stepney's  Gap." 

"  On  we  go  then,  with  blessings  on  your  head, 
sir,"  said  the  other  man.  "  Friends,  where  should 
we  ha'  landed  ourselves  if  we  had  fallen  short  of 
our  luck  in  coming  right  on  Mr.  Hartwell?  Would 
we  not  do  kindly  to  give  a  halloa  or  twain  to  help 
those  poor  hearts  that  may  be  wandering  wild?  " 
he  added,  pointing  in  the  direction  whence  the  hail 
seemed  to  come. 

"  Ay,  'twould  be  but  kind,"  said  an  old  man  of 
the  party.  "  Oh,  'tis  a  dread  and  grisly  mishap  to 
be  wandering  wild  in  an  unknown  country." 

Forthwith  the  younger  ones  sent  out  answering 
hails  to  the  halloas  that  came  to  them.  But  when 
the  next  sounds  reached  their  ears  like  echoes  of 
their  own  shouts,  it  seemed  that  they  came  from 
quite  another  quarter. 

"  I  could  ha'  taken  my  davy  that  the  lost  ones  was 
off  another  point  o'  the  compass,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"  No,  Comyn,"  said  another.  "  No,  my  man,  they 
came  from  thither." 

He  pointed  straight  in  front  of  him. 

"  From  where  we  stand  that  should  be  the  Gap," 
said  Mr.  Hartwell. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       183. 

"A  special  comfortable  place  to  be  wandering- 
wild  in  is  the  Gap,  for  if  you  walk  straight  on  it 
carries  you  to  the  mighty  ocean,  and  if  you  walk 
back  you  will  reach  your  own  home  safe,  if  it  be 
in  that  direction,"  said  the  old  man  with  emphasis. 

"Was  this  mist  far  up  the  valley?  "  Wesley  en- 
quired. 

"  Not  more  than  a  league,  sir,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "  'Twas  a  sunlit  morn  when  we  made  our 
start,  and  then  it  came  down  on  us  like  a  ship  in 
full  sail.  There  goes  another  hail,  and,  as  I  said, 
it  conies  from  behind  us.  Is  there  one  of  us  that 
has  a  clear  throat.  'Kish  Trevanna,  you  was  a 
gallery  choir  singer  in  your  youth,  have  you  any 
sound  metallic  notes  left  that  you  could  cheer  up 
the  lost  ones  withal?  Come,  goodman,  be  not  over 
shy.  Is  this  a  time  to  be  genteel  when  a  parson's 
of  the  company,  waiting  to  help  and  succour  the 
vague  wanderers?  " 

"  The  call  is  for  thee,  Loveday,  for  didst  not  fol- 
low the  hounds  oft  when  there  was  brisk  work  in 
Squire's  coverts?  "  said  the  man  to  whom  the  appeal 
was  made. 

"We  must  hasten  onward,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell, 
making  a  start.  "  'Tis  most  like  that  we  are  over- 
taking whomsoever  it  be  that  was  shouting  a  hail. 
Forward,  friends,  and  feel  your  way  to  the  pack- 
horse  road." 

The  whole  party  began  to  move,  Mr.  Hartwell  and 
Wesley  leading,  and  before  they  had  proceeded  for 
more  than  two  hundred  yards  they  heard  the  sound 
of  talking  just  ahead  of  them,  and  the  next  moment 
a  group  of  men  loomed  through  the  mist.  Friends 
were  also  in  the  new  party. 

"  Were  you  them  that  sang  out?  "  asked  one  of 
them. 


184       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"  Only  in  answer  to  your  hail ;  we  be  no  crayens, 
bnt  always  ready  to  help  poor  wanderers,"  replied 
the  talkative  old  man. 

"  We  did  not  sound  a  note  before  we  heard  a 
hail,"  said  the  questioner  in  the  new  party.  "  We 
have  not  strayed  yet,  being  bound  for  the  preach- 
ing." 

"Have  you  been  on  the  horse  road?"  asked 
Hartwell. 

"  The  horse  road?  Why,  sir,  the  horse  road  lies 
down  the  way  that  you  came,"  said  the  other. 

"  Surely  not,  my  friend.  How  could  we  have 
missed  it?  "  said  Hartwell. 

"  If  'twasn't  for  the  fog  I  could  walk  as  steady 
for  it  as  a  mule,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Ay,  friends, 
as  any  mule  under  a  pack  saddle,  for  I  have  trav- 
ersed valley  and  cleft  an  hundred  times  in  the  old 
days,  being  well  known  as  a  wild  youth,  asking 
your  pardon  for  talking  so  secular  when  a  parson 
is  by.  I  am  loath  to  boast,  but  there  was  never 
a  wilder  youth  in  three  parishes,  Captain  Hart- 
well." 

(Mr.  Hartwell  had  once  been  the  captain  of  a 
mine.) 

"  Surely  we  should  be  guided  by  the  sound  of  the 
sea,"  said  Wesley.  "  A  brief  while  ago  I  heard  the 
boom  of  waters  into  one  of  the  caves.  If  we  listen 
closely  we  should  learn  if  the  sound  is  more  distinct 
and  thereby  gather  if  we  are  approaching  that  part 
of  the  cliff  or  receding  from  it." 

"  Book-learning  is  a  great  help  at  times,  but  'tis 
a  snare  in  a  streaming  fog,  or  in  such  times  of  snow 
as  we  were  wont  to  have  in  the  hard  years  before 
the  Queen  died  in  her  gorgeous  palace,"  remarked 
the  patriarch. 

"  One  at  a  time,  grandfather,"  said  a  man  who 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       185 

had  arrived  with  the  last  party.  "  There's  not 
space  enough  for  you  and  the  ocean  on  a  morn  like 
this.  Hark  to  the  sea." 

They  stood  together  listening,  but  now,  through 
one  of  the  mysteries  of  a  fog,  not  a  sound  from  the 
sea  reached  them.  They  might  have  been  miles 
inland. 

"  I  have  been  baffled  by  a  fog  before  now,"  said 
a  shepherd.  "  Have  followed  the  bleat  of  an  ewe 
for  a  mile  over  the  hills,  and  lo,  the  silly  beast  had 
never  left  her  lamb,  and  when  I  was  just  over  her 
she  sounded  the  faintest." 

"  Time  is  passing ;  should  we  not  make  a  move 
in  some  direction?"  said  Wesley.  "Surely,  my 
friends,  we  must  shortly  come  upon  some  landmark 
that  will  tell  us  our  position  in  a  moment." 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  in  trying  to  cut  off  the 
mile  for  the  Gap  I  went  grossly  astray,"  said  Mr. 
Hartwell.  "  I  am  for  marching  straight  on." 

"  Straight  on  we  march  and  leave  the  guidance  to 
Heaven,"  said  Wesley. 

On  they  went,  Wesley  marvelling  how  it  was  that 
men  who  should  have  known  every  inch  of  the  way 
blindfold,  having  been  on  it  almost  daily  all  their 
lives,  could  be  so  baffled  by  a  mist.  To  be  sure  Mr. 
Hartwell  had  forsaken  the  track  at  one  place,  but 
was  it  likely  that  he  had  got  upon  a  different  one 
when  he  had  made  his  detour  to  cut  off  a  mile  of 
their  journey. 

On  they  walked,  however,  their  party  numbering 
fourteen  men,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  the  voice 
of  the  sea  came  upon  them,  and  at  the  same  moment 
they  almost  stepped  over  the  steep  brink  of  a  little 
chasm. 

"  What  is  this?  "  cried  Hartwell.  "  As  I  live  'tis 
Gosney  hollow,  and  we  are  scarcely  half  a  mile  from 


186       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

nay  house!  We  have  walked  a  good  mile  back  on 
our  steps." 

"  Did  not  I  tell  you  how  I  followed  the  ewe?  " 
said  the  shepherd.  "  'Tis  for  all  the  world  the  same 
tale.  Sore  baffling  thing  is  a  sea-mist." 

"  The  valley  will  be  full  o'  lost  men  and  women 
this  day,"  remarked  the  old  man. 

There  is  no  condition  of  life  so  favourable  to  the 
growth  of  despondency  as  that  which  prevails  in  a 
fog.  The  most  sanguine  are  filled  with  despair 
when  they  find  that  their  own  senses,  to  which  they 
have  trusted  for  guidance  and  protection,  are  de- 
feated. The  wanderers  on  this  Sunday  morning 
stood  draped  by  the  fog,  feeling  a  sense  of  defeat. 
No  one  made  a  suggestion.  Everyone  seemed  to 
feel  that  it  would  be  useless  to  make  the  attempt  to 
proceed  to  the  crags  where  the  preaching  was  to  be 
held. 

"  Think  you,  Mr.  Wesley,  that  this  state  of 
weather  is  the  work  of  the  Fiend  himself?  "  asked 
the  talkative  old  man.  "  I  know  'tis  a  busy  ques- 
tion with  professing  Christians,  as  well  as  honest 
Churchmen — this  one  that  pertains  to  the  weather. 
Stands  to  reason,  for  say  I  have  a  turnip  crop  com- 
ing on  and  so  holds  out  for  a  wet  month  or  two, 
while  a  neighbour  may  look  for  sunshine  to  ripen 
his  grain.  Now  if  so  be  that  the  days  are  shiny 
my  turnips  get  the  rot,  and  who  is  to  blame  a  weak 
man  for  saying  that  the  Foul  Fiend  had  a  hand  in 
prolonging  the  shine;  but  what  saith  my  neigh- 
bour? " 

"  Hither  comes  another  covey  of  wandering 
partridges,"  said  one  of  the  first  party,  as  the  sound 
of  voices  near  at  hand  was  heard. 

"  Now,  for  myself,  I  hold  that  'tis  scriptural  nat- 
ural to  say  that  aught  in  the  matter  that  pertains 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       187 

to  the  smoke  of  the  Pit  is  the  Devil's  own  work,  and 
if  such  a  fog  as  this  comes  not  straight  out  the 
main  flue  of " 

The  old  man's  fluency  was  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  the  new  party,  Nelly  Polwhele  and  her 
father. 

"  You  are  just  setting  out  for  the  preaching,  I 
suppose ;  so  we  are  not  so  late  as  we  feared,"  cried 
the  girl.  "  Still,  though  we  shall  certainly  not  be 
late  for  the  preaching,  however  far  behind  wre  may 
be,  we  would  do  well  to  haste." 

Wesley  surely  felt  less  despondent  at  the  cheery 
greeting  of  the  girl.  He  laughed,  saying : 

"  'Tis  all  very  well  to  cry  '  Haste,'  child ;  know 
that  it  has  taken  us  a  whole  hour  to  get  so  far." 

"  Is't  possible  that  you  have  been  out  for  an  hour, 
sir?  "  she  cried.  "  Surely  some  man  of  you  was 
provident, to  carry  with  him  a  compass  on  such  a 
morn  as  this?" 

"  You  speak  too  fast,  maid ;  book-learning  has 
made  thee  talkative;  a  mariner's  compass  is  for 
the  mariners — it  will  not  wrork  on  dry  land,"  said 
the  old  man. 

"  Mine  is  one  of  the  sort  that  was  discovered 
since  your  sensible  days,  friend — ay,  as  long  agone 
as  that;  it  works  on  land  as  well  as  on  sea.  If  a 
bumpkin  stands  i'  the  north  its  finger  will  point 
dead  to  him.  Wouldst  like  to  test  it  thyself? " 
said  Nelly's  father.  Before  the  old  man  had  quite 
grasped  his  sarcasm,  though  it  was  scarcely  wanting 
in  breadth,  he  had  turned  to  Mr.  Hartwell,  display- 
ing a  boat's  compass  in  its  wooden  box. 

"  'Twas  Nelly  bade  me  carry  it  with  us,"  he  said. 
"  I  worked  out  all  the  bearings  o'  the  locality  before 
we  started,  and  I  can  make  the  Red  Tor  as  easy  as 
I  could  steer  to  any  unseen  place  on  the  lonely 


188       THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED 

ocean.  Here  we  be,  sir;  west  sou'west  to  the 
Gap,  track  or  no  track;  then  west  and  by  nor'- 
west  a  little  northerly  to  the  lift  o'  the  cliff,  thence 
south-half-east  to  the  Red  Tor.  Up  wi'  your 
grapples,  friends,  we'll  be  there  before  the  sermon 
has  begun  or  even  sooner  if  we  step  out." 

Wesley,  and  indeed  all  of  the  party  except  per- 
haps the  pessimistic  old  man,  whose  garrulity  had 
suffered  a  check,  felt  more  cheerful.  Hartwell 
clapped  Polwhele  on  the  back,  saying: 

"  You  are  the  man  we  were  waiting  for.  On- 
ward, pilot;  we  shall  reach  the  Tor  in  good  time, 
despite  our  false  start  and  the  delay  it  made  to  us." 

They  started  along  the  track,  Polwhele  at  their 
head,  and  Wesley  with  Mr.  Hartwell  and  Nelly 
immediately  behind  him. 

"  There's  a  whole  sermon  in  this,  child,"  said  the 
preacher. 

"  A  whole  sermon,  sir?  "  said  she. 

"  There  should  be  only  one  sermon  preached  by 
man  to  men,  and  this  is  it,"  said  Wesley.  "  The 
poor  wandering  ones  standing  on  a  narrow  cause- 
way, with  danger  on  every  side,  and  the  grey  mist 
of  doubt  in  the  air.  The  sense  of  being  lost — 
mark  that,  dear  child, — and  then  the  coming  of  the 
good  Pilot,  and  a  complete  faith  in  following  Him 
into  the  place  of  safety  which  we  all  seek.  There 
is  no  sermon  worth  the  preaching  save  only  this." 

On  they  went,  Polwhele  calling  out  the  bearings 
every  now  and  again,  and  as  they  proceeded  they 
came  upon  several  other  travellers,  more  or  less 
forlorn — all  were  hoping  to  reach  the  Red  Tor  in 
time;  so  that  before  the  abrupt  turn  was  made 
from  the  pack-horse  track,  there  was  quite  a  little 
procession  on  the  way. 

Never  had  Wesley  had  such  an  experience  as  this. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       189 

Out  from  the  folds  of  the  impenetrable  mist  that 
rolled  through  the  hollows  of  the  low  mounds  that 
formed  that  natural  amphitheatre,  came  the  sound 
of  many  voices,  and  the  effect  was  strange,  for  one 
could  not  even  see  that  a  mass  of  people  was  as- 
sembled there.  The  hum  that  the  newcomers  heard 
when  still  some  distance  away  became  louder  as 
they  approached,  and  soon  they  were  able  to  dis- 
tinguish words  and  phrases — men  calling  aloud  to 
men — some  who  had  strayed  from  the  friends  were 
moving  about  calling  their  names,  and  occasionally 
singing  out  a  hail  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  their  voices 
being  recognised;  then  there  came  the  distressed 
wail  of  a  woman  who  had  got  separated  from  her 
party,  and  with  the  laughter  of  a  group  who  had  got 
reunited  after  many  wanderings.  There  was  no 
lack  of  sounds,  but  no  shape  of  men  or  women 
could  be  distinguished  in  the  mist,  until  Wesley 
and  his  party  were  among  them.  And  even  then 
the  dimly  seen  shapes  had  suggestions  of  the  unreal 
about  them.  Some  would  loom  larger  than  human 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  vanish  suddenly. 
Others  seemed  grotesquely  transfigured  in  the  mist 
as  if  they  had  enwrapped  themselves  in  a  disguise 
of  sackcloth.  They  seemed  not  to  be  flesh  and 
blood,  but  only  shadows.  Coming  suddenly  upon 
them,  one  felt  that  one  had  wandered  to  another 
world — a  region  of  restless  shadows. 

How  was  any  man  to  preach  to  such  a  congrega- 
tion? How  was  a  preacher  to  put  force  into  his 
words,  when  failing  to  see  the  people  before  him? 

When  Wesley  found  himself  on  the  eminence 
where  he  had  spoken  to  the  multitude  on  his  first 
coming  to  Cornwall,  and  several  times  later,  he 
looked  down  in  front  of  him  and  saw  nothing  ex- 
cept the  fine  gauze  of  the  grey  clouds  that  rolled 


190       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

around  the  rocks.  He  stood  there  feeling  that  he 
was  the  only  living  being  in  a  world  that  was 
strange  to  him.  He  thought  of  the  poet  who  had 
gone  to  the  place  of  departed  spirits,  and  realised 
his  awful  isolation.  How  was  he  to  speak  words  of 
life  to  this  spectral  host? 

He  had  never  known  what  fear  was  even  when 
he  had  faced  a  maddened  crowd  bent  upon  the  most 
strenuous  opposition  to  his  preaching:  he  had 
simply  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and  the  sound  of 
his  voice  had  held  them  back  from  him  and  their 
opposition  had  become  parched.  But  now  he  felt 
something  akin  to  terror.  Who  was  he  that  he 
should  make  this  attempt  to  do  what  no  man  had 
ever  done  before? 

He  fell  upon  his  knees  and  prayed  aloud.  Light 
— Light — Light — that  was  the  subject  of  his 
prayer.  He  was  there  with  the  people  who  had 
walked  in  darkness — he  had  walked  writh  them, 
and  now  they  were  in  the  presence  of  the  One  who 
had  said  "  Let  ^there  be  Light."  He  prayed  that 
the  Light  of  the  World  might  appear  to  them  at 
that  time — the  Light  that  shineth  through  the  dark- 
ness that  comprehended  Him  not.  He  prayed  for 
light  to  understand  the  Light,  as  the  poet  had  done 
out  of  the  darkness  of  his  blindness. 


"  So  much  the  rather,  Thou  Celestial  Light, 
Shine  inward  and  the  mind  through  her  way 
Irradiate;  there  plant  eyes;  all  mists  from  thence 
Purge  and  disperse  that  I  may  see  and  tell 
Of  things  invisible  to  mortal  sight." 


And  after  his  prayer  with  closed  eyes,  he  began  to 
preach  into  that  void,  and  his  text  was  of  the  Light 
also.  His  voice  sounded  strange  to  his  own  ears. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       191 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  standing  in  front  of 
a  wall,  trying  to  make  his  words  pass  through  it. 
This  was  at  first;  a  moment  later  he  felt  that  he 
was  speaking  to  a  denser  multitude  than  he  had 
ever  addressed  before.  The  mist  was  before  his 
eyes  as  a  sea  of  sad  grey  faces  waiting,  earnest  and 
anxious  for  the  message  of  gladness  which  he  was 
bringing  them.  His  voice  rose  to  heights  of  impres- 
siveness  that  it  had  never  reached  before.  It  clove 
a  passage  through  the  mist  and  fell  upon  the  ears 
of  the  multitude  whom  he  could  not  see,  stirring 
them  as  they  had  never  been  stirred  before,  while 
he  gave  them  his  message  of  the  Light. 

For  close  upon  half  an  hour  he  spoke  of  the 
Light.  He  repeated  the  wrord — again  and  again  he 
repeated  it,  and  every  time  that  it  came  from  his 
lips  it  had  the  effect  of  a  lightning  flash.  This  was 
at  first.  He  spoke  in  flashes  of  lightning,  uttered 
from  the  midst  of  the  cloud  of  a  night  of  dense 
blackness ;  and  then  he  made  a  change.  The  storm 
that  made  fitful,  fiercer  illumination  passed  away, 
and  after  an  interval  the  reiteration  of  the  Light 
appeared  again.  But  now  it  was  the  true  Light — • 
the  light  of  dawn  breaking  over  a  sleeping  world. 
It  did  not  come  in  a  flash  to  dazzle  the  eyes  and 
then  to  make  the  darkness  more  dread;  it  moved 
gradually  upward ;  there  was  a  flutter  as  of  a  dove's 
wing  over  the  distant  hills,  the  tender  feathers  of 
the  dawn  floated  through  the  air,  and  fell  upon  the 
Eastern  Sea,  quivering  there;  and  even  while  one 
watched  them  wondering,  out  of  the  tremulous 
spaces  of  the  sky  a  silver,  silken  thread  was  spread 
where  the  heaven  and  the  waters  met — it  broad- 
ened and  became  a  cincture  of  pearls,  and  then  the 
thread  that  bound  it  broke,  and  the  pearls  were 
scattered,  flying  up  to  the  sky  and  falling  over  all 


192       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

the  waters  in  beautiful  confusion;  and  before  the 
world  had  quite  awakened,  the  Day  itself  gave  signs 
of  hastening  to  gather  up  the  pearls  of  Dawn.  The 
Day's  gold-sandalled  feet  were  nigh — they  were 
shining  on  the  sea's  brim,  and  lo!  the  East  was 
bright  with  gold.  Men  cried,  "Why  do  those  feet 
tarry?  "  But  even  while  they  spoke,  the  wonder  of 
the  Morn  had  come  upon  them.  Flinging  down  his 
mantle  upon  the  mountains  over  which  he  had 
stepped — a  drapery  of  translucent  lawn,  the  splen- 
dour of  the  new  light  sprung  upward,  lifting  hands 
of  blessing  over  the  world,  and  men  looked  and  saw 
each  other's  faces,  and  knew  that  they  were  blest. 

And  the  wonder  that  he  spoke  of  had  come  to 
pass.  While  the  preacher  had  been  describing  the 
breaking  light,  the  light  had  come.  All  unnoticed, 
the  mist  had  been  dissolving,  and  when  he  had 
spoken  his  last  words  the  sunlight  was  bathing  the 
preacher  and  the  multitude  who  hung  upon  his 
words.  The  wonder  that  he  told  them  of  had  taken 
place,  and  there  did  not  seem  to  them  anything  of 
wonder  about  it.  Only  when  he  made  his  pause 
did  they  look  into  each  other's  faces  as  men  do  when 
they  have  slept  and  the  day  has  awakened  them. 
Then  with  the  sunlight  about  them,  for  them  to 
drink  great  draughts  that  refreshed  their  souls,  he 
spoke  of  the  Light  of  the  World — of  the  Dayspring 
from  on  High  that  had  visited  the  world,  and  their 
souls  were  refreshed. 

And  not  one  word  had  he  said  of  all  that  he  had 
meant  to  say — not  one  word  of  the  man  whom  he 
had  come  so  far  to  reprove. 

No  one  was  conscious  of  the  omission. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

THE  day  became  sultry  when  the  mist  had  cleared 
away,  and  by  noon  the  heat  was  more  oppressive 
than  had  been  known  all  the  Summer.  Wesley  was 
exhausted  by  the  time  he  set  out  with  Mr.  Hartwell 
to  return  to  the  village.  They  needed  no  mariner's 
compass  now  to  tell  them  the  way. 

They  scarcely  exchanged  a  word.  They  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  the  conditions  under  which  they 
had  gone  forth  in  the  early  morning.  A  new 
world  seemed  to  have  been  created  since  then — a 
world  upon  which  the  shadow  of  darkness  could  not 
fall  for  evermore. 

They  had  gone  straight  to  the  cliffs,  hoping  for 
a  breath  of  air  from  the  sea  to  refresh  them;  but 
they  were  disappointed ;  the  air  was  motionless  and 
the  reflection  of  the  sunlight  from  the  waves  was 
dazzling  in  its  brilliancy. 

"  I  should  have  thought  that  the  very  weight  of 
this  heavy  atmosphere  wyould  make  the  sea  like 
glass,"  said  Wesley,  while  they  rested  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  cliff.  "  And  yet  there  are  waves  such 
as  I  have  never  seen  on  this  part  of  the  coast  unless 
when  something  akin  to  a  gale  was  blowing." 

"  I  daresay  there  was  a  strong  breeze  blowing, 
though  we  did  not  feel  it  in  the  shelter  of  the  hollow 
of  the  Tor,"  said  his  companion. 

"  True ;  it  would  require  a  strong  wind  to  sweep 
away  the  mist  so  suddenly,"  said  Wesley. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  the  other,  "  I  did  not  think  of  a 
wind  in  that  connection.  Was  it  the  fingers  of  the 

193 


wind,  think  you,  that  swept  that  thick  veil  aside, 
or  was  it  the  Hand  that  rent  in  twain  the  veil  of  the 
Temple?  " 

"  I  am  reproached,  brother,"  said  Wesley.  "  Let 
us  give  thanks  unto  God.  May  He  give  us  grace 
to  think  of  all  things  as  coming  from  Him — whether 
they  take  the  form  of  a  mist  which  obscures  His 
purpose,  or  the  darkness  of  a  tempest  on  which  He 
rides.  I  know  myself  wanting  in  faith  at  all  times 
— in  that  faith  without  reserve  which  a  child  has 
in  his  father.  I  confess  that  for  a  moment  in  the 
morning  I  had  the  same  thought  as  that  which  was 
expressed  by  the  old  man  who  joined  us :  I  thought 
it  possible  that  that  fog  which  threatened  to  frus- 
trate our  walk  had  been  sent  by  the  Enemy. 
Should  I  have  thought  so  if  our  work  had  been 
hindered  in  very  truth?  I  dare  not  say  no  to  that 
question.  But  now  I  know  that  it  helped  rather 
than  obstructed-  us." 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  that,"  said  Hart- 
well.  "  For  myself,  I  say  that  I  was  never  so  deeply 
impressed  in  my  life  as  at  that  moment  when  I 
found  myself  looking  at  you ;  you  we.re  speaking  of 
the  world  awakening,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
had  been  asleep — listening  to  the  sound  of  your 
voice — the  voice  of  a  dream,  and  then  I  was  full 
awake,  I  knew  not  how.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Wesley, 
I  was  not  conscious  of  the  change  that  was  taking 
place — from  darkness  to  light." 

"  Nor  was  I,"  said  Wesley.  "  My  eyes  were 
closed  fast  while  I  was  preaching.  I  had  closed 
them  to  shut  out  that  incongruous  picture  of  ob- 
scurity, while  I  thought  of  the  picture  of  the  break- 
ing of  light;  when  I  opened  my  eyes  the  picture 
that  I  had  been  striving  to  paint  was  before  me.  It 
was  the  Lord's  doing." 


While  they  remained  resting  on  the  cliff  the  of- 
ficer of  the  Preventive  men  came  upon  them.  He 
knew  Hartwell,  and  had,  when  Wesley  had  been  in 
the  neighbourhood  before,  thanked  him  for  the 
good  influence  his  preaching  had  in  checking  the 
smuggling. 

He  now  greeted  them  cordially  and  enquired  if 
they  had  come  from  the  village,  adding  that  he 
hoped  the  fishing  boats  had  not  suffered  from  the 
effects  of  the  tide. 

"  We  left  the  port  early  in  the  morning,  and  in 
the  face  of  the  mist.  What  is  the  matter  with  the 
tide?  "  said  Hartwell. 

"  You  have  not  been  on  the  beach?  Why,  'tis  a 
marvel,  gentlemen,"  cried  the  officer.  "  The  like 
has  not  been  seen  since  I  took  up  my  appointment 
in  this  neighbourhood — a  tide  so  high  that  the  caves 
are  flooded  to  the  roof.  List,  sirs;  you  can  hear 
naught  of  the  usual  boom  of  the  waters  when  the 
pressed  air  forces  them  back." 

They  listened,  but  although  there  was  the  usual 
noise  of  the  waves  breaking  along  the  coast,  the 
boom  from  the  caves  which  had  been  heard  at  inter- 
vals through  the  mist  was  now  silent. 

"  As  a  rule  'tis  at  high  tide  that  the  sound  is 
loudest,"  said  Hartwell. 

"  That  is  so,"  said  the  officer.  "  The  higher  the 
water  is,  the  more  the  air  in  the  caves  becomes 
pressed,  and  so  the  louder  is  the  explosion.  But 
this  day  the  water  has  filled  the  caves  to  the  roof, 
leaving  no  air  in  their  depths  to  bellow.  One  of 
my  men,  on  his  patrol  an  hour  ago,  was  overtaken 
by  the  tide  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  at  a  place  high 
above  spring  tide  mark.  He  had  to  climb  to  safety. 
He  did  so  only  with  difficulty.  Had  he  been  at 
JSlthsaye,  nothing  would  have  saved  him." 


196       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"What,  are  Nithsaye  sands  flooded?  Impos- 
sible," cried  Hartwell. 

"  Flooded  up  to  Tor,  sir.  I  tell  you  the  thing  is 
a  marvel ! " 

"  All  the  more  so,  since  there  is  no  wind  to  add 
to  the  force  of  the  tide,"  said  Wesley. 

"True,  sir;  there  was  a  strong  breeze  in  the 
early  morning  that  swept  the  sea-mist  over  the 
shore;  but  there  has  not  been  a  capful  since,"  said 
the  officer. 

"  But  see  the  waves !  Are  they  the  effects  of  the 
early  wind,  think  you,  sir?  "  asked  Wesley. 

"  Maybe ;  but  if  so,  this  also  is  past  my  experi- 
ence of  this  coast,  sir,"  replied  the  man.  "  But  I 
allow  that  when  I  was  sailing  with  Captain  Hawke 
in  the  West  Indies  I  knew  of  the  waters  of  the 
Caribbean  Sea  being  stirred  up  like  this  in  the  dead 
calm  before  a  hurricane  that  sent  us  on  our  beam 
ends,  and  one  of  our  squadron  on  to  the  Palisades 
Reef  at  Port  Royal." 

"  Do  you  fear  for  a  hurricane  at  this  time?  " 
asked  Wesley. 

"  A  gale,  maybe ;  but  no  such  hurricane  as  wrecks 
the  island  it  swoops  down  on  in  the  Leewards,  sir. 
Oh,  a  hurricane  in  very  deed !  Our  ship's  cutter — 
a  thirty-foot  boat  swung  in  on  the  iron  davits — and 
lashed  down  to  iron  stanchions  on  the  deck — was 
whisked  adrift  as  if  it  had  been  an  autumn  leaf. 
I  say  it  went  five  hundred  fathom  through  the  air 
and  no  man  saw  it  fall.  I  saw  a  road  twenty  foot 
wide  shorn  through  the  dense  forest  for  five  miles 
as  clean  as  with  a  scythe,  as  you  go  to  Spanish  Town 
— a  round  dozen  of  planters'  houses  and  a  stone 
church  had  once  stood  on  that  cutting.  They  were 
swept  off,  and  not  a  stone  of  any  one  of  them  was 
ever  found  by  mortal  after.  Oh,  a  hurricane,  in- 


deed!  We  need  expect  naught  like  that,  by  the 
mercy  of  Heaven,  gentlemen ;  though  I  care  not  for 
the  look  of  yon  sun." 

They  glanced  upwards.  The  sun  had  the  aspect 
of  being  seen  through  a  slight  haze,  which  made  it 
seem  of  a  brazen  red,  large  and  with  its  orb  all 
undefined.  It  looked  more  like  the  red  fire  of 
a  huge  lighted  brazier  than  the  round  sun,  and 
all  around  it  there  was  the  gleam  as  of  moving 
flames. 

"Looks  unhealthy — is't  not  so?"  said  the 
officer. 

"  There  is  a  haze  in  the  air ;  but  the  heat  is  none 
the  less,"  said  Hartwell. 

"  I  like  it  not,  sirs.  This  aspect  of  the  sun  is 
part  and  parcel  of  some  disturbance  of  nature  that 
we  would  do  well  to  be  prepared  for,"  said  the 
officer,  shaking  his  head  ominously. 

"  A  disturbance  of  nature?  What  mean  you? 
Have  you  been  hearing  of  the  fishing-boats  that 
have  been  hauled  up  on  the  stones  at  the  port  for 
the  past  two  days?  Have  you  taken  serious  account 
of  the  foolishness  of  a  man  who  calls  himself  a 
prophet?  "  asked  Hartwell. 

The  officer  laughed. 

"  Oh,  I  have  heard  much  talk  of  the  Prophet 
Pritchard,"  he  said.  "  But  you  surely  do  not 
reckon  me  as  one  of  those  poor  wretches  whom  he 
has  scared  out  of  their  lives  by  threatening  them 
with  the  Day  of  Judgment  to-morrow?  Nay,  sir; 
I  placed  my  trust  in  a  statement  that  begins  with 
soundings,  the  direction  of  the  wind  and  its  force, 
the  sail  that  is  set,  the  last  cast  of  the  log,  the  bear- 
ings of  certain  landmarks,  and  the  course  that  is 
being  steered.  My  word  for  it,  without  such  a  pre- 
face, any  statement  is  open  to  doubt." 


198       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"And  have  you  received  such  a  statement  in  re- 
gard to  your  (  disturbance  of  nature,'  sir?  " 

"  That  I  have,  sirs.  Our  cutter  was  cruising 
about  a  league  off  shore  two  nights  ago,  light  breeze 
from  west-nor'-west,  sail  set;  mainsail,  foresail, 
jib,  speed  three  knots.  Hour,  two  bells  in  the 
morning,  Master  in  charge  on  deck,  watch,  lar- 
board— names  if  necessary.  Reports,  night  sultry, 
cloudless  since  second  dog  watch,  attention  called 
to  sounds  as  of  discharge  of  great  guns  in  nor'- 
nor'west.  Lasted  some  minutes,  not  continuous; 
followed  by  noise  as  of  a  huge  wave  breaking,  or  the 
fall  of  a  cataract  in  same  quarter.  Took  in  jib, 
mainsail  haul,  stand  by  to  lower  gaff.  No  further 
sounds  reported,  but  sea  suddenly  got  up,  though 
no  change  of  wind,  force  or  direction,  and  till  four 
bells  cutter  sailed  through  waves  choppy  as  if  half 
a  gale  had  been  blov7ing.  After  four  bells  gradual 
calm.  Nothing  further  to  report  till  eight  bells, 
when  cutter,  tacking  east-nor'east,  all  sail  set, 
gunner's  mate  found  in  it  a  dead  fish.  Master  re- 
ports quantity  of  dead  fish  floating  around.  Took 
five  aboard — namely,  hake  two,  rock  codling  one, 
turbot  two,  rock  codling  with  tail  damaged.  That's 
a  statement  we  can  trust,  Mr.  Hartwell.  Yester- 
day it  was  supplemented  by  accounts  brought  by 
my  men  of  the  coast  patrol,  of  quantities  of  dead 
fish  washed  ashore  in  various  directions.  And 
now  comes  this  marvellous  tide.  Sirs,  have 
not  I  some  grounds  for  touching  upon  such  a  sub- 
ject as  '  a  great  disturbance  of  nature  '?  " 

"  Ample,  sir,  ample,"  said  Wesley.  "  Pray,  does 
your  West  Indian  experience  justify  you  in  coming 
to  any  conclusion  in  regard  to  these  things?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  fish  being  killed  by  the  action 
of  a  volcano  beneath  the  sea,"  said  the  officer.  "  I 


THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED      199 

have  heard  it  said  that  all  the  Leeward  Islands  are 
volcanos,  though  only  one  was  firing  broadsides  the 
year  that  I  was  with  my  Lord  Hawke.  'Twas  at 
Martinique  which  we  took  from  the  French.  Even 
before  the  island  came  in  sight,  our  sails  were  black 
with  dust  and  our  decks  were  strewn  with  cinders. 
But  when  we  drew  nigh  to  the  island  and  saw  the 
outburst  of  molten  rocks  flying  up  to  the  very  sky 
itself — sir,  I  say  to  you  that  when  a  man  has  seen 
such  a  sight  as  that,  he  is  not  disposed  to  shudder 
at  all  that  a  foolish  fellow  who  has  never  sailed 
further  than  the  Bristol  Channel  may  prate  about 
the  Day  of  Judgment." 

"  And  to  your  thinking,  sir,  an  earthquake  or 
some  such  convulsion  of  nature  hath  taken  place 
at  the  bottom  of  our  peaceful  Channel? "  said 
Wesley. 

"  In  my  thinking,  sir,  yes.  But  I  would  not  say 
that  the  convulsion  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  Chan- 
nel; it  may  have  been  an  hundred  leagues  in  the 
Atlantic.  And  more  is  to  come,  sirs ;  take  my  wrord 
for  it,  more  is  to  come.  Look  at  yonder  sun;  'tis 
more  ominous  than  ever.  I  shall  look  out  for 
volcano  dust  in  the  next  rain,  and  advise  the  near- 
est station  east'ard  to  warn  all  the  fishing  craft  to 
make  snug,  and  be  ready  for  the  worst.  I  should 
not  be  surprised  to  find  that  the  tide  is  still  rising,! 
and  so  I  wish  you  good-morning,  sirs." 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  resumed  his  patrol  of  the 
coast. 

"  This  is  a  day  of  surprises,"  said  Wesley. 

"  The  story  of  the  fish  is  difficult  to  believe,  in 
spite  of  the  cocoon  of  particulars  in  which  it  is 
enclosed,"  said  Hartwell.  "  The  greatest  marvel 
in  a  mariner's  life  seems  to  me  to  be  his  imagination 
and  his  readiness  of  resource  when  it  comes  to  a] 


200       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

question  of  memory.  A  volcano  mountain  in  our 
Channel !  " 

"  Do  not  condemn  the  master  of  the  revenue 
cutter  too  hastily,"  said  Wesley.  "  His  story  cor- 
responds very  nearly  to  that  narrated  to  me  yester- 
day by  Polwhele." 

"  Is't  possible?  True,  Polwhele  was  the  only  fish- 
erman who  went  out  to  the  reef  three  nights  ago," 
said  Hartwell.  "  And  the  strange  sounds " 

"  He  heard  them  also — he  thought  that  they  came 
from  a  frigate  discharging  a  broadside  of  car- 
ronades." 

Hartwell  was  silent  for  some  time.  At  last  he 
said: 

"  I  could  wish  that  these  mysterious  happenings 
had  come  at  some  other  time.  Are  you  rested 
sufficiently  in  this  place,  sir?  I  am  longing  for  a 
cool  room,  where  I  can  think  reasonably  of  all 
that  I  have  seen  and  heard  this  day." 

Wesley  rose  from  the  hollow  where  he  had  made 
his  seat  and  walked  slowly  down  the  sloping  path 
toward  the  village.  But  long  before  they  had 
reached  the  place  of  his  sojourning,  he  became 
aware  of  a  scene  of  excitement  in  the  distance. 
The  double  row  of  straggling  cottages  that  con- 
stituted the  village  of  Porthawn  they  had  left  in 
the  morning  standing  far  beyond  the  long  and  steep 
ridge  of  shingle,  at  the  base  of  which  the  wrack  of 
high  water  lay,  was  now  close  to  the  water's  edge. 
The  little  wharf  alongside  of  which  the  fishing  boats 
were  accustomed  to  lie  had  been  hauled  up  prac- 
tically to  the  very  doors  of  the  houses.  Scores  of 
men  and  women  were  engaged  in  the  work  of  haul- 
ing them  still  higher,  not  by  the  machinery  of  the 
capstans — the  capstans  were  apparently  submerged 
— but  by  hawsers.  The  sound  of  the  sailors' 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       2011 

4t  Heave  ho ! "  came  to  the  ear  of  Wesley  and  his 
companion  a  few  seconds  after  they  had  seen  the 
bending  to  the  haul  of  all  the  people  who  were 
clinging  to  the  hawsers  as  flies  upon  a  thread.  The 
shore  was  dark  with  men  running  with  gear- 
tackles  with  blocks,  while  others  were  labouring 
along  under  the  weight  of  spars  and  masts  that  had 
been  hastily  outstepped. 

Mr.  Hartwell  was  speechless  with  astonishment. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  day  of  wonder !  "  exclaimed  Wes- 
ley. "A  high  tide?  Ay;  but  who  could  have  be- 
lieved such  an  one  possible?  Should  we  not  be  do- 
ing well  to  lend  them  a  hand  in  their  emergency?  " 

He  had. to  repeat  his  question  before  the  other 
had  recovered  from  his  astonishment  sufficiently  to 
be  able  to  reply. 

"  Such  a  tide !  Such  a  tide ! "  he  muttered. 
"What  can  it  mean?  Lend  a  hand?  Surely — 
surely!  Every  hand  is  needed  there." 

They  were  compelled  to  make  a  detour  landward 
in  order  to  reach  the  people,  for  the  ordinary  path 
was  submerged,  but  they  were  soon  in  the  midst  of 
them,  and  bending  to  the  work  of  hauling,  until  the 
drops  fell  from  their  faces,  when  the  heavy  boat  at 
which  they  laboured  had  her  bowsprit  well-nigh 
touching  the  window  of  the  nearest  house. 

Wesley  dropped  upon  a  stone  and  wiped  his  fore- 
head, and  some  of  the  fishermen  did  the  same,  while 
others  were  loosing  the  tackles,  in  readiness  to  bind 
them  on  the  next  boat. 

Nelly  Polwhele  was  kneeling  beside  him  in  an  in- 
stant— her  hair  had  become  unfastened,  for  she  had 
been  working  hard  with  the  other  women,  and  fell 
in  strands  down  her  back  and  over  her  shoulders. 
Her  face  was  wet. 

•"  Oh,  sir;  this  is  overmuch  for  you! "  she  cried. 


202       THE   LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

"  Far  overmuch,  after  all  that  you  have  gone 
through  since  morning.  Pray  rest  you  in  the  shade. 
There  is  a  jug  of  cider  cooling  in  a  pail  of  water 
fresh  drawn  from  the  well.  You  need  refreshment." 

He  took  her  hand,  smiling. 

"  I  am  refreshed,  dear  child,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
refreshed." 

"  Why  should  that  man  be  treated  different  from 
the  rest  of  us;  tell  me  that,"  came  the  voice  of  a 
man  who  had  been  watching  them,  and  now  stepped 
hastily  forward.  Wesley  saw  that  he  was  Bennet. 
"Is  there  a  man  in  the  village  who  doesn't  know  that 
'tis  John  Wesley  and  his  friends  that  has  brought 
this  visitation  upon  us?  Was  there  anything  like 
to  this  before  he  came  with  his  new-fangled  preach- 
ing, drawing  down  the  wrath  of  Heaven  upon  such 
as  have  been  fool  enough  to  join  themselves  to  him? 
Was  there  any  of  you,  men,  that  thought  with 
trembling  limbs  and  sweating  foreheads  of  the  Day 
of  Judgment  until  John  Wesley  turned  the  head  of 
that  poor  man  Pritchard,  and  made  him  blaspheme, 
wrapping  himself  in  Wesley's  old  cloak,  and  telling 
you  that  'twas  the  mantle  of  a  prophet?  " 

Nelly  had  risen  to  her  feet  before  his  last  sen- 
tence was  spoken,  but  a  moment  afterward  she 
sprang  to  one  side  with  a  cry.  She  was  just  in  time 
to  avoid  the  charge  of  a  man  on  horseback.  But 
Bennet  was  not  so  fortunate.  Before  he  was  aware 
of  a  danger  threatening  him,  he  felt  himself  carried 
off  his  feet,  a  strong  man's  hands  grasping  the 
collars  of  his  coat,  so  that  he  was  swung  off  the 
ground,  dangling  and  scrawling  like  a  puppet. 
Down  the  horse  sprang  into  the  water,  until  it  was 
surging  over  the  pommel  of  the  saddle.  Then,  and 
only  then,  the  rider  loosed  his  hold,  reining  in  his 
horse  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  flung 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       203 

the  man  headforemost  a  couple  of  yards  farther 
into  the  waves. 

"  The  hound !  the  hound !  that  will  cool  his 
ardour !  "  cried  Parson  Rodney,  backing  his  horse 
out  of  the  water,  while  the  people  above  him  roared, 
and  the  man,  coming  to  the  surface  like  a  grampus, 
struck  out  for  a  part  of  the  beach  most  remote  from 
the  place  where  he  had  stood. 

Wesley  was  on  his  feet  and  had  already  taken 
a  step  or  two  down  the  shingle,  for  Parson  Rodney's 
attitude  suggested  his  intention  of  preventing  the 
man  from  landing,  when  he  saw  that  Bennet  was  a 
strong  swimmer,  and  that  he,  too,  had  put  the  same 
Interpretation  upon  the  rider's  raising  of  his  hunt- 
ing crop. 

"  Sir,"  said  Parson  Rodney,  bringing  his  drip- 
ping horse  beside  him,  "  I  grieve  that  any  man  in 
my  parish  should  put  such  an  affront  upon  you. 
Only  so  gross  a  wretch  would  have  done  so.  Thank 
Heaven  the  fellow  is  not  of  Porthawn,  nor  a  Cor- 
nishman  at  all.  If  you  do  not  think  that  my  simple 
rebuke  has  been  enough,  I  am  a  Justice,  and  I 
promise  you  to  send  him  to  gaol  for  a  month  at  next 
session." 

"  Sir,  you  mean  well  by  me,"  said  Wesley ;  "  but 
I  would  not  that  any  human  being  were  placed  in 
jeopardy  of  his  life  on  my  account." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  overgentle,  sir,"  said 
Rodney.  "  Thank  Heaven,  my  fault  does  not  lie  in 
that  direction." 

"  Repent,  repent,  repent,  while  there  is  yet  time ! 
In  a  few  more  hours  Time  shall  be  no  more !  "  came 
a  loud  voice  from  the  high  ground  above  the  bank. 

Everyone  turned  and  saw  there  the  figure  of 
Richard  Pritchard,  standing  barehead  in  the 
scorching  sun,  his  hands  upraised  and  his  hair  un- 


204       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

kept ;  and  a  curious  nondescript  garment  made  ap- 
parently of  several  sacks  hastily  stitched  together, 
with  no  sleeves.  On  his  feet  he  wore  what  looked 
like  sandals — he  had  cut  down  the  upper  portion 
of  his  shoes,  so  that  only  the  sole  remained,  and 
these  were  fastened  to  his  feet  by  crossed  pieces  of 
tape.  He  was  the  prophet  of  the  Bible  illustration. 
It  was  plain  that  he  had  studied  some  such  print 
and  that  he  had  determined  that  nothing  should  be 
lacking  in  his  garb  to  make  complete  the  part  which 
he  meant  to  play. 

Up  again  went  the  long,  lean,  bare  arms,  and 
again  came  the  voice: 

"  O  men  of  Porthawn,  now  is  the  accepted  time, 
now  is  the  Day  of  Salvation.  Yet  a  few  more  hours 
and  Time  shall  be  no  more.  Repent,  repent,  re- 
pent, while  ye  have  time." 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THERE  could  be  no  doubt  about  the  depth  of  the 
impression  which  the  strange  figure  and  his  unusual 
garb  produced  upon  the  people. 

There  he  stood  on  the  high  ground  above  the 
houses,  the  man  who  had  prophesied  the  end  of 
the  world,  while  beneath  them  tumbled  the  waves 
of  a  sea  where  they  had  never  seen  sea  water  be- 
fore! The  occurrence,  being  so  far  outside  their 
experience,  had  about  it  the  elements  of  the  super- 
natural— the  aspect  of  a  miracle.  Was  this  the 
beginning  of  the  end  of  all?  they  asked  themselves. 
To  these  people  the  daily  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide, 
ever  going  on  before  their  eyes,  was  the  type  of  a 
regularity  that  nothing  could  change;  and  never 
once  had  the  water  been  forced,  even  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  strongest  gale  from  the  southwest, 
beyond  the  summit  of  the  shingle-heap — never  un- 
til this  day. 

It  was  an  awful  thing  that  had  come  to  pass  be- 
fore their  eyes,  and  while  their  brains  were  reeling 
beneath  its  contemplation  there  rang  out  that 
voice  of  warning.  The  man  who  had  predicted  an 
event  that  was  not  more  supernatural  in  their  eyes 
than  the  one  which  had  come  to  their  very  feet,  was 
there  bidding  them  repent. 

But  strange  to  say,  there  was  not  one  among  the 
people  assembled  there  who  made  a  motion — who 
cried  out  in  conviction  of  the  need  for  repentance, 
as  hundreds  had  done  upon  every  occasion  of  John 
Wesley's  preaching,  although  it  had  contained  no 

205 


206       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

element  that,  in  the  judgment  of  an  ordinary  per- 
son, would  appeal  with  such  force  to  the  emotions 
of  the  villagers  as  did  the  scene  in  which  Pritchard 
now  played  a  part. 

They  remained  unmoved — outwardly,  however 
shrinking  with  terror  some  of  them  may  have  been. 
Perhaps  it  was  they  felt  that  the  man  had,  in  a  way, 
threatened  them  physically,  and  they  had  a  feeling 
that  it  would  show  cowardice  on  their  part  to  be- 
tray their  fear,  or  it  may  have  been  that,  as  was 
nearly  always  the  case  when  a  prophet  came  to  a 
people,  they  attributed  to  the  bearer  of  the  mes- 
sages of  the  ill  the  responsibility  for  the  ills  which 
he  foretold — however  it  may  have  been,  the  people 
only  glanced  up  at  the  weird  figure,  and  made  no 
move. 

But  the  appearance  of  the  man  at  that  moment 
had  the  effect  of  making  them  forget  the  scene  which 
had  immediately  preceded  the  sound  of  his  voice. 
No  one  looked  to  see  whether  or  not  John  Bennet 
had  scrambled  back  to  the  beach  or  had  gone  under 
the  waters. 

"  It  is  coming — it  is  coming :  I  hear  the  sound  of 
the  hoofs  of  the  pale  Horse — yonder  is  the  red 
Horse  spoken  of  by  the  prophet  at  Patmos,  but  the 
White  Horse  is  champing  his  bit.  I  hear  the  clink 
of  the  steel,  and  Death  is  his  rider.  He  cometh 
with  fire  and  brimstone.  Eepent — repent — re- 
pent!" 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  make  the  fellow  repent  of  his 
impudence,"  said  Parson  Rodney.  "  The  effrontery 
of  the  man  trying  to  make  me  play  a  part  in  his 
quackery.  I  wonder  how  this  water-finder  would 
find  the  water  if  I  were  to  give  him  the  ducking  I 
gave  to  the  other?  " 

"  You  would  do  wrong,  sir,"  said  Wesley.     "  But 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       207 

I  feel  that  I  have  no  need  to  tell  you  so :  your  own 
good  judgment  tells  you  that  yonder  man  is  to  be 
pitied  rather  than  punished." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  the  view  you  take  of  the  matter, 
you  may  be  sure  that  I'll  not  interfere,"  cried  the 
other.  "  The  fellow  may  quack  or  croak  or  crow 
for  aught  I  care.  'Twas  for  you  I  was  having 
thought.  But  I've  no  intention  of  constituting  my 
humble  self  your  champion.  I  wish  you  well ;  and 
I  know  that  if  the  world  gets  over  the  strain  of 
Monday,  we  shall  never  see  you  in  our  neighbour- 
hood again." 

"  The  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat. 
You  feel  it — you  feel  it  on  your  faces  to-day:  I 
foretold  it,  and  I  was  sent  to  cry  unto  all  that  have 
ears  to  hear,  '  Repent — repent — repent ' !  " 

"  The  fellow  has  got  no  better  manner  than  a  real 
prophet,"  laughed  Parson  Rodney;  but  there  was 
not  much  merriment  in  his  laughter.  "  I  have  a 
mind  to  have  him  brought  before  me  as  an  incor- 
rigible rogue  and  vagabond,"  he  continued.  "  An 
hour  or  twain  in  the  stocks  would  make  him  think 
more  civilly  of  the  world.  If  he  becomes  bold 
enough  to  be  offensive  to  you,  Mr.  Wesley,  give  me  a 
hint  of  it,  and  I'll  promise  you  that  I'll  make  him 
see  more  fire  and  brimstone  than  he  ever  did  in  one 
of  his  ecstatic  moods;  and  so  good-day  to  you, 
sir." 

He  put  his  horse  to  a  trot,  and  returned  the 
salutes  of  the  men  who  were  standing  idly  watching 
Pritchard  in  his  very  real  sackcloth. 

But  he  had  scarcely  ridden  past  them  when  he 
turned  his  horse  and  called  out : 

"  Wherefore  are  you  idle,  good  men?  Do  you 
mean  to  forsake  the  remainder  of  your  smacks?  " 

A  few  of  the  fishermen  looked  at  one  another; 


208       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

they  shook  their  heads ;  one  of  them  wiped  his  fore- 
head. 

"  'Twill  be  all  the  same  after  Monday,  Parson," 
said  that  man. 

"  You  parboiled  lobster-grabber !  "  cried  the  Par- 
son. "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  the  ef- 
frontery to  believe  that  addle-pate  up  there  rather 
than  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England?  Look 
at  him.  He's  not  a  man.  'Tis  a  poor  cut  torn  from. 
a  child's  picture  Bible  that  he  is!  Do  you  believe 
that  the  world  would  come  to  an  end  without  your 
properly  ordained  clergyman  giving  you  a  hint  of 
it?  Go  on  with  your  work,  if  you  are  men.  Repent? 
Ay,  you'll  all  repent  when  'tis  too  late,  if  you  fail  to 
haul  up  your  boats  so  that  their  backs  get  not 
broken  on  that  ridge.  If  you  feel  that  you  must 
repent,  do  it  hauling.  And  when  you've  done  your 
work,  come  up  to  the  Rectory  and  cool  your  throats 
with  a  jug  of  cider,  cool  from  the  cellar,  mind." 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  sea,"  came  the  voice  of 
the  man  on  the  mound ;  it  was  growing  appreciably 
hoarser. 

"  No  more  sea?  "  shouted  the  parson.  "  That's 
an  unlucky  shot  of  yours,  my  addle-pated  prophet ; 
'tis  too  much  sea  that  we  be  suffering  from  just 
here." 

Wesley  had  not  reseated  himself.  He  put  his 
hand  upon  Mr.  Hartwell's  arm.  The  latter  under- 
stood what  he  meant.  They  walked  away  together. 

"  I  have  seen  nothing  sadder  for  years,"  said  Wes- 
ley. "  I  have  been  asking  myself  if  I  am  to  blame. 
Should  not  I  have  been  more  careful  in  regard  to 
that  unhappy  man?  " 

"  If  blame  is  to  be  attached  to  any  it  is  to  be 
attached  to  those  who  recommended  the  man  to  you, 
and  I  was  among  them,"  said  Hartwell.  "  I  recall 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   209 

how  you  were  not  disposed  to  accept  him  into  our 
fellowship  by  reason  of  his  work  with  the  divining 
rod ;  but  we  persuaded  you  against  your  judgment. 
I,  for  one,  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

"  Was  ever  aught  so  saddening  as  that  travesty 
of  the  most  solemn  event?  "  said  Wesley.  "  And 
then  the  spectacle  of  that  well-meaning  but  ill- 
balanced  man!  A  clergyman  of  our  Church — you 
saw  him  turn  to  mock  the  wretch?  He  made  a  jest 
upon  the  line  that  has  never  failed  to  send  a  thrill 
through  me :  i  No  more  sea.'  Shocking — shocking ! 
.  .  .  Friend,  I  came  hither  with  the  full  intention  of 
administering  a  rebuke  to  Pritchard — of  openly  let- 
ting it  be  understood  that  we  discountenanced  him. 
But  I  did  not  do  so  to-day,  and  I  am  glad  of  it. 
However  vain  the  man  may  be — however  injuriously 
he  may  affect  our  aims  among  the  people — I  am 
still  glad  that  I  was  turned  away  from  saying  a 
word  against  him." 

Mr.  Hartwell  was  too  practical  a  man  to  look  at 
the  matter  in  the  same  light.  But  he  said  nothing 
further  about  Pritchard.  When  he  spoke,  which 
he  did  after  a  time,  it  was  about  Bennet.  He  asked 
Wesley  if  he  could  guess  why  the  man  had  spoken 
to  him  so  bitterly.  Why  should  the  man  bear  him 
a  grudge? 

Wesley  mentioned  that  Bennet  had  come  upon 
him  when  he  was  walking  with  Polwhele's  daughter 
from  the  Mill. 

"  Ah,  that  is  the  form  of  his  madness — he  becomes 
insanely  jealous  of  anyone  whom  he  sees  near  that 
girl.  But  one  might  have  thought  that  you  at  least 
— oh,  absurdity  could  go  no  further !  But  a  jealous 
man  is  a  madman;  he  is  incapable  of  looking  at 
even  the  most  ordinary  incident  except  through 
green  glasses.  You  are  opposed  to  clergymen 


210       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

marrying,  are  you  not,  Mr.  Wesley?  I  have  heard 
of  your  book " 

"  I  wrote  as  I  was  persuaded  at  that  time," 
replied  Wesley.  "  But  more  recently — I  am  not 
confident  that  I  did  not  make  a  mistake  in  my  con- 
clusions. I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  good  for  a  man 
to  be  alone ;  and  a  clergyman,  of  all  men,  needs  the 
sympathy — the  sweet  and  humane  companionship 
of  a  woman." 

"  True,  sir ;  but  if  a  clergymen  makes  a  mistake 
in  his  choice  of  a  wife,  there  can  be  no  question  that 
his  influence  declines;  and  so  many  men  of  your 
cloth  wreck  themselves  on  the  quicksand  of  matri- 
mony. I  daresay  that  'tis  your  own  experience  of 
this  that  keeps  you  single,  though  you  may  have 
modified  your  original  views  on  the  subject. 
Strange,  is't  not,  that  we  should  find  ourselves  dis- 
cussing such  a  point  at  this  time?  But  this  seems 
to  be  the  season  of  strange  things,  and  'twould  be 
the  greatest  marvel  of  all  if  we  ourselves  were  not 
affected.  Is  it  the  terrible  heat,  think  you,  that 
has  touched  the  heads  of  those  two  men?  " 

"  I  scarce  know  what  I  should  think,"  said  Wes- 
ley. "  The  case  of  Pritchard  is  the  more  remark- 
able. Only  now  it  occurred  to  me  that  there  may  be 
a  strange  affinity  between  the  abnormal  in  nature 
and  the  mind  of  such  a  man  as  he.  'Twould  be  idle 
to  contend  that  he  has  not  been  able  as  a  rule  to  say 
where  water  is  to  be  found  on  sinking  a  shaft;  I 
have  heard  several  persons  testify  to  his  skill  in 
this  particular — if  it  may  be  called  skill.  Does 
not  his  possession  of  this  power  then  suggest  that 
he  may  be  so  constituted  that  his  senses  may  be  sus- 
ceptible of  certain  vague  suggestions  which  emanate 
from  the  earth,  just  as  some  people  catch  ague — I 
have  known  of  such  in  Georgia — when  in  the  neigh- 


bourhood  of  a  swamp,  while  others  remain  quite 
unaffected  in  health?  " 

"  That  is  going  too  far  for  me,  sir,"  said  Hartwell. 
"  I  do  not  need  to  resort  to  anything  more  difficult 
to  understand  than  vanity  to  enable  me  to  under- 
stand how  Pritchard  has  changed.  The  fellow's 
head  has  been  turned — that's  all." 

"  That  explanation  doth  not  wholly  satisfy  me," 
said  Wesley.  "  I  think  that  we  have  at  least  some 
proof  that  he  was  sensible  of  something  abnormal 
in  Nature,  and  this  sensibility  acting  upon  his  brain 
disposed  him  to  take  a  distorted  view  of  the  thing. 
His  instinct  in  this  matter  may  have  been  accurate ; 
but  his  head  was  weak.  He  receives  an  impression 
of  something  strange,  and  forthwith  he  begins  to 
talk  of  the  Day  of  Judgment,  and  his  foolish  vanity 
induces  him  to  think  of  himself  as  a  prophet.  The 
Preventive  officer  thinks  that  there  hath  been  an 
earthquake.  Now  there  can,  I  think,  be  no  doubt 
that  Pritchard  was  sensible  of  its  coming;  Pol- 
whele  told  you  yesterday  that  he  had  predicted  an 
earthquake  in  the  sea,  although  it  seemed  that  his 
illiteracy  was  accountable  for  this:  and  now  there 
comes  this  remarkable  tide — the  highest  tide  that 
the  memory  of  man  has  known." 

"  You  have  plainly  been  giving  the  case  of  Pritch- 
ard much  of  your  attention,"  said  Hartwell ;  "  but 
I  pray  you  to  recall  his  account  of  the  vision  which 
he  said  came  to  him  when  he  fell  into  that  trance. 
'Twas  just  the  opposite  to  a  high  tide — 'twas  such 
an  ebbing  of  the  water  as  left  bare  the  carcase  of 
the  East  Indiaman  that  went  ashore  on  the  Dog's 
Teeth  reef  forty  years  ago." 

"  True ;  but  to  my  way  of  thinking  it  matters  not 
whether  'twas  a  prodigious  ebb  or  a  prodigious  flow 
that  he  talked  of  so  long  as  he  was  feeling  the  im- 


212       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

pression  of  the  unusual — of  the  extraordinary. 
Mind  you,  I  am  only  throwing  out  a  hint  of  a  matter 
that  may  become,  if  approached  in  a  proper  spirit, 
a  worthy  subject  for  sober  philosophical  thought. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  take  it  upon  me  to  say  at 
this  moment  that  the  power  shown  by  that  man  is 
from  the  Enemy  of  mankind,  albeit  I  have  at  times 
found  myself  thinking  that  it  could  come  from  no 
other  source." 

"  You  are  too  lenient,  I  fear,  Mr.  Wesley.  For 
myself,  I  believe  simply  that  the  man's  head  has 
been  turned.  Is't  not  certain  that  a  devil  enters 
into  such  men  as  are  mad,  and  have  we  not  proof 
that  witches  and  warlocks  have  sometimes  the  per- 
verted gift  of  prophecy,  through  the  powo?  of  their 
master,  the  Old  Devil?  " 

"  I  cannot  gainsay  it,  my  brother,  and  it  is  be- 
cause of  this  you  say,  that  I  am  greatly  perplexed." 

They  had  been  walking  very  slowly,  for  the  heat 
of  the  day  seemed  to  have  increased,  and  they  were 
both  greatly  exhausted.  Before  entering  Mr.  Hart- 
well's  house  they  stood  for  a  short  time  looking 
seaward.  There,  as  before,  the  waves  danced  under 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  although  not  a  breath  of  air 
stirred  between  the  sea  and  the  sky.  The  canopy 
of  the  heaven  was  blue,  but  it  suggested  the  blue 
of  hard  steel  rather  than  that  of  the  transparent 
sapphire  or  that  of  the  soft  mass  of  a  bed  of  for- 
get-me-nots, or  of  the  canopy  of  clematis  which 
clambered  over  the  porch. 

The  sun  that  glared  down  from  the  supreme 
height  was  like  to  no  other  sun  they  had  ever  seen. 
The  haze  on  its  disc,  to  which  the  Preventive 
officer  had  drawn  their  attention  an  hour  earlier, 
had  been  slowly  growing  in  the  meantime,  until 
now  it  was  equal  to  four  diameters  of  the  orb 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       213 

itself,  and  it  was  so  permeated  with  the  rays  that 
it  seemed  part  of  the  sun  itself.  There  that  mighty 
furnace  seethed  with  intolerable  fire,  and  so  singu- 
lar was  the  haze  that  one,  glancing  for  a  moment 
upward  with  hand  on  forehead,  seemed  to  see  the 
huge  tongues  of  flame  that  burst  forth  now  and 
again  as  they  do  beneath  a  copper  cauldron  on  the 
furnace  of  the  artificer. 

But  this  was  not  all,  for  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  the  molten  mass,  which  had  the  sun  for 
its  core,  there  was  a  wide  ring  apparently  of  fire. 
Though  dull  as  copper  for  the  most  part,  yet  at 
times  there  was  a  glow  as  of  living  and  not  merely 
reflected  flame,  at  parts  of  the  brazen  circle,  and 
flashes  seemed  to  go  from  the  sun  to  this  cincture, 
conveying  the  impression  of  an  enormous  shield, 
having  the  sun  as  the  central  boss  of  shining  brass, 
on  which  fiery  darts  were  striking,  flying  off  again 
to  the  brass  binding  of  the  targe. 

"  Another  marvel !  "  said  Wesley ;  "  but  I  have 
seen  the  like  more  than  once  before.  Once  'twas 
on  the  Atlantic,  and  the  master  of  our  ship,  who 
was  a  mariner  of  experience,  told  me  that  that 
outer  circle  was  due  to  the  sun  shining  through 
particles  of  moisture.  Hold  up  a  candle  in  the 
mist  and  you  have  the  same  thing." 

"  I  myself  have  seen  it  more  than  once ;  'tis  not 
a  marvel,  though  it  has  appeared  on  a  day  of  mar- 
vels," said  Hartwell;  and  forthwith  they  entered 
the  house. 

They  were  both  greatly  exhausted,  the  fact  being 
that  before  setting  out  for  the  preaching  in  the 
early  morning  they  had  taken  no  more  than  a  glass 
of  milk  and  a  piece  of  bread,  and  during  the  seven 
hours  that  had  elapsed  they  had  tasted  nothing, 
though  the  day  had  been  a  most  exhausting  one. 


214       THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  cold  dinner,  with  the 
salad,  which  had  been  in  readiness  for  their  return, 
found  them  grateful;  and  after  partaking  of  it 
•Wesley  retired  to  his  room. 

He  threw  himself  upon  a  couch  that  stood  under 
the  window ;  a  group  of  trees,  though  birch  and  not 
very  bosky,  grew  so  close  to  the  window  that  they 
had  made  something  of  a  shade  to  the  room  since 
morning,  so  that  it  was  the  coolest  in  the  house.  It 
was  probably  this  sense  of  coolness  that  refreshed 
him  so  far  as  to  place  him  within  the  power  of 
sleep.  He  had  thought  it  impossible  when  he  en- 
tered the  house  that  he  should  be  able  to  find  such 
a  relief,  exhausted  as  he  had  been.  But  now  he 
had  scarcely  put  his  head  on  the  pillow  before  he 
was  asleep. 

Several  hours  had  passed  before  he  opened  his 
eyes  again.  He  was  conscious  that  a  great  change 
of  some  sort,  that  he  could  not  at  once  define,  had 
taken  place.  The  room  was  in  shadow  where  be- 
fore it  had  been  lighted  by  flecks  of  sunshine,  but 
this  was  not  the  change  which  appealed  to  him  with 
striking  force ;  nor  was  it  the  sense  of  being  're- 
freshed, of  which  he  was  now  aware.  There  wras  a 
curious  silence  in  the  world — the  change  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  silence.  He  felt  as  he  had 
done  in  the  parlour  of  Ruthallion  Mill  when  he 
had  been  talking  to  the  miller  and  the  machinery 
had  suddenly  stopped  for  the  breakfast  hour.  That 
was  his  half -a  wakened  thought. 

The  next  moment  he  was  fully  awake,  and  he 
knew  what  had  happened:  when  he  had  fallen 
asleep  the  sound  of  the  waves  had  been  in  his  ears 
without  cessation,  and  now  the  sea  was  silent. 

He  thought  that  he  had  never  before  been  in  such 
a  silence.  It  seemed  strange,  mysterious,  full  of 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       215 

awful  suggestions.  It  seemed  to  his  vivid  imagina- 
tion that  the  world,  wThich  a  short  time  before  had 
been  full  of  life,  had  suddenly  swooned  away.  The 
hush  was  the  hush  of  death.  The  silence  was  the 
silence  of  the  tomb.  "  'Tis  thus,"  he  thought, 
"  that  a  man  awakens  after  death — in  a  place  of 
awful  silences." 

And  then  he  felt  as  if  all  the  men  in  the  world 
had  been  cut  off  in  a  moment,  leaving  him  the  only 
man  alive. 

It  continued  unbroken  while  he  lay  there.  It 
became  a  nightmare  silence — an  awful  palpable 
thing  like  a  Sphinx — a  blank  dumbness — a  be- 
numbing of  all  Nature — a  sealing  up  of  all  the 
world  as  in  the  hard  bondage  of  an  everlasting 
Winter. 

He  sprang  from  his  couch  unable  to  endure  the 
silence  any  longer.  He  went  to  the  window  and 
looked  out,  expecting  to  see  the  flat  unruffled  sur- 
face of  the  channel,  where  the  numberless  waves 
had  lately  been,  sparkling  with  intolerable  bril- 
liance, and  every  wave  sending  its  voice  into  the 
air  to  join  the  myriad-voiced  chorus  that  the  sea 
made. 

He  looked  out  and  started  back;  then  he  drew 
up  the  blind  and  stared  out  in  amazement,  for 
where  the  sea  had  been  there  was  now  no  sea. 

He  threw  open  the  window  and  looked  out.  Far 
away  in  the  utter  distance  he  saw  what  seemed 
like  a  band  of  glittering  crimson  on  the  horizon. 
Looking  further  round  and  to  the  west  he  saw  that 
the  sun  was  more  than  halfway  down  the  slope 
of  the  heavens  in  that  quarter  and  it  was  of  the 
darkest  crimson  in  colour — large,  but  no  longer 
fiery. 

Then  there  came  a  murmur  to  his  ears — the  mur- 


216       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

mur  of  a  multitude  of  people ;  and  above  this  sound 
came  a  hoarse,  monotonous  voice,  crying : 

"  I  heard  one  say  to  me :  '  There  shall  be  no  sea 
— there  shall  be  no  more  sea ' ;  and  the  sun  shall 
be  turned  into  darkness  and  the  moon  into  blood, 
before  the  great  and  terrible  Day  of  the  Lord. 
Repent — repent — repent !  " 

Far  away  he  could  see  the  figure  of  the  man.  He 
stood  on  the  summit  of  the  cliff  beyond  the  path, 
and,  facing  the  sinking  sun,  he  was  crimson  from 
head  to  foot.  Seen  at  such  a  distance  and  in  that 
light  he  looked  an  imposing  figure — a  figure  that 
appealed  to  the  imagination,  and  not  lacking  in 
those  elements  which  for  ages  have  been  associated 
with  the  appearance  of  a  fearless  prophet  uplifting 
a  lean  right  arm  and  crying  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord." 

Wesley  listened  and  heard  his  cry : 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  sea !  Repent — repent 
— repent! " 


1  There  shall  be  no  more  sea!     Repent — Repent — Repent ! " — Page  216 


CHAPTER    XIX 

"  WHAT  think  you  now,  sir?  "  Hartwell  asked 
of  Wesley  when  the  latter  had  descended  the  stairs 
and  entered  the  little  parlour  of  the  house. 

"  I  am  too  greatly  amazed  to  think,"  replied 
Wesley.  "  But  since  you  put  thinking  into  my 
head,  I  would  ask  you  if  you  think  it  unnatural 
that  a  great  ebb  should  follow  an  unusually  high 
tide?  " 

It  was  plain  that  Hartwell  was  greatly  per- 
turbed. 

"  Unnatural?  Why,  has  not  everything  that 
has  happened  for  the  past  three  days  been  un- 
natural? "  he  cried.  "  Sir,  I  am,  I  thank  God,  a 
level-headed  man.  I  have  seen  some  strange  things 
in  my  life,  both  in  the  mines  and  when  seafaring; 
I  thought  that  naught  could  happen  to  startle  me, 
but  I  confess  that  this  last — I  tell  you,  sir,  that  I 
feel  now  as  if  I  were  in  the  midst  of  a  dream.  My 
voice  sounds  strange  to  myself;  it  seems  to  come 
from  someone  apart  from  me — nay,  rather  from  my- 
self, but  outside  myself." 

"  'Tis  the  effect  of  the  heat,  dear  friend,"  said 
Wesley.  "  You  should  have  slept  as  I  did." 

"  I  did  sleep,  sir ;  what  I  have  been  asking  myself 
is  'Am  I  yet  awake? '  I  have  had  dreams  before 
like  to  this  one — dreams  of  watching  the  sea  and 
other  established  things  that  convey  to  us  all 
ideas  of  permanence  and  regularity,  melting  away 
before  my  very  eyes — one  dread  vision  showed  me 
Greta  Cliff  crumbling  away  like  a  child's  mound 

217 


built  on  the  sand — crumbling  away  into  the  sea, 
and  then  the  sea  began  to  ebb  and  soon  was  on  the 
horizon.  Now,  I  have  been  asking  myself  if  I  am 
in  the  midst  of  that  same  dream  again.  Can  it  be 
possible?  Can  it  be  possible?  " 

He  clapped  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  hastened 
to  the  window,  whence  he  looked  out.  Almost  im- 
mediately he  returned  to  Wesley,  saying : 

"  I  pray  you  to  inform  me,  sir,  if  this  is  the 
truth  or  a  dream — is  it  really  the  case  that  the  sea 
has  ebbed  so  that  there  is  naught  left  of  it?  " 

"  You  are  awake,  my  brother,"  said  Wesley, 
"and  'tis  true  that  the  sea  hath  ebbed  strangely; 
but  from  the  upper  windows  'tis  possible  to  see  a 
broad  band  of  it  in  the  distance.  I  beseech  of  you 
to  lie  down  on  your  bed  and  compose  yourself. 
This  day  has  tried  you  greatly." 

The  other  stared  at  him  for  a  few  moments  and 
then  walked  slowly  away,  muttering: 

"  A  mystery — a  mystery !  Oh,  the  notion  of 
Dick  Pritchard  being  a  true  prophet!  Was  it  of 
such  stuff  as  this  the  old  prophets  were  made? 
God  forgive  me  if  I  erred  in  thinking  him  one  of 
the  vain  fellows.  Mr.  Wesley's  judgment  was  not 
at  fault;  he  came  hither  to  preach  against  him; 
but  not  a  word  did  he  utter  of  upbraiding  or 
reproof." 

Wesley  saw  that  the  man  was  quite  overcome. 
Up  to  this  moment  he  had  shown  himself  to  be 
possessed  of  a  rational  mind,  and  one  that  was  not 
easily  put  off  its  balance.  He  had  only  a  few 
hours  before  been  discussing  Pritchard  in  a  sober 
and  unemotional  spirit;  but  this  last  mystery  had 
been  too  much  for  him:  the  disappearance  of  the 
sea,  which  had  lately  climbed  up  to  the  doors  of 
Porthawn,  had  unhinged  him  and  thrown  him  off 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   219 

his  balance.  If  the  phenomenon  had  occurred  at 
any  other  time — under  any  less  trying  conditions 
of  weather — he  might  have  been  able  to  observe  it 
with  equanimity;  but  the  day  had  been,  as  Wesley 
said,  a  trying  one.  The  intense  heat  was  of  itself 
prostrating,  and  demoralising  even  to  Wesley  him- 
self, and  he  had  schooled  himself  to  be  unaffected 
by  any  conditions  of  weather. 

Suddenly  Hartwell  turned  toward  his  visitor, 
saying : 

"  And  if  the  man  was  entrusted  to  predict  the 
falling  away  of  the  sea,  is  there  anyone  that  will 
say  that  the  remainder  of  his  prophecy  will  not  be 
fulfilled?" 

"  I  entreat  of  you,  brother,  to  forbear  asking 
yourself  any  further  questions  until  you  have  had 
a  few  hours'  sleep,"  said  Wesley. 

"  What  signifies  a  sleep  now  if  before  this  time 
to-morrow  the  end  of  all  things  shall  have  come?  " 
Hartwell  cried  almost  fiercely.  "  Nay,  sir,  I  shall 
wait  with  the  confidence  of  a  Christian ;  I  shall  not 
be  found  as  were  the  foolish  virgins — asleep  and 
with  unlighted  lamps.  There  will  be  no  slumber 
for  me.  I  shall  watch  and  pray." 

"  Let  us  pray  together,  my  brother,"  said  Wes- 
ley, laying  his  hand  on  the  man's  shoulder  affec- 
tionately. He  perceived  that  he  was  not  in  a  mood 
to  be  reasoned  with. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  door  was  opened 
and  there  entered  the  room  the  miller  and  Jake 
Pullsford. 

Wesley  welcomed  their  coming;  he  had  hopes 
that  they  would  succeed  in  persuading  his  host  to 
retire;  but  before  they  had  been  in  the  room  for 
more  than  a  few  minutes  Hartwell  had  well-nigh 
become  himself  again. 


220       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

The  newcomers  were  not  greatly  affected  by  any- 
thing that  had  happened.  They  were  only  regret- 
ful that  the  mist  of  the  morning  had  prevented 
them  from  reaching  the  Red  Tor  in  time  for  the 
preaching.  They  had  started  together,  but  had 
stopped  upon  the  way  to  help  a  party  of  their 
friends  who  were  in  search  of  still  another  party, 
and  when  the  strayed  ones  had  been  found  they 
all  had  thought  it  prudent  to  remain  at  a  farm 
where  they  had  dined. 

"  On  our  way  hither  we  met  with  one  who  had 
been  to  the  preaching,"  said  Jake.  "  He  told  us 
something  of  what  we  had  missed." 

"  Were  you  disappointed  to  learn  that  no  refer- 
ence had  been  made  to  the  very  matter  that  brought 
me  back  to  you?"  asked  Wesley. 

Jake  did  not  answer  immediately.  It  was  ap- 
parent that  he  had  his  own  views  on  this  matter, 
and  that  he  had  been  expounding  them  to  his  com- 
panion on  their  walk  from  the  farm  to  the  coast. 

"  Mr.  Wesley,  'tis  plain  to  me  that  the  skill  at 
divination  shown  by  that  man  conies  from  below, 
not  from  above,"  he  said.  "  And  do  you  suppose 
that  our  enemies  will  take  back  any  of  the  foul 
things  they  have  said  about  our  allying  ourselves 
with  sorcery  when  they  hear  of  the  wonderful 
things  that  are  now  happening?  " 

"  Brother,"  said  Wesley,  "  if  the  principles  of 
the  Truth  which  we  have  been  teaching  are  indeed 
true,  they  will  survive  such  calumnies — nay,  they 
will  take  the  firmer  hold  upon  all  who  have  heard 
us  by  reason  of  such  calumnies.  The  gold  of  the 
Truth  has  oft  been  tried  by  the  fire  of  calumny  and 
proved  itself  to  be  precious." 

"  You  saw  the  man  play-acting  in  his  sackcloth?  " 
said  the  carrier. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       221 

Wesley  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"  'Twas  deplorable !  "  he  said.  "  And  yet  I  dare 
not  even  now  speak  against  him — no,  not  a  word." 

"  What,  sir,  you  do  not  believe  that  he  is  a  sor- 
cerer and  a  soothsayer?  "  cried  Jake. 

"  I  have  not  satisfied  myself  that  he  is  either,'* 
replied  Wesley.  "  More  than  once  since  I  saw  how 
much  evil  was  following  on  his  predictions  I  have 
felt  sure  that  he  was  an  agent  of  our  Arch-enemy, 
but  later  I  have  not  felt  quite  so  confident  in  my 
judgment.  No,  friend,  I  shall  not  judge  him.  He 
is  in  the  hands  of  God." 

"  And  I  agree  with  Mr.  Wesley,"  said  the  miller. 

Jake  Pullsford,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind 
him  and  his  head  craned  forward,  was  about  to 
speak,  when  Hal  Holmes  entered  the  room.  He 
was  excited. 

"  Have  you  seen  it? "  he  cried  before  he  had 
greeted  anyone.  "  Have  you  seen  it — the  vision 
of  his  trance  at  the  Mill — the  tide  sliding  away  as 
it  hath  never  done  before  within  the  memory  of 
man? — the  discovery  of  the  bare  hollow  basin  of 
the  sea?  Have  you  been  within  sight  of  the  Dog's 
Teeth?  " 

"  We — Mr.  Hartwell  and  I — have  not  been  out 
of  doors  for  six  hours ;  but  we  are  going  now,"  said 
Wesley.  "  We  have  seen  some  of  the  wonders  that 
have  happened ;  we  would  fain  witness  all." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  blacksmith,  "  this  one  is  the 
first  that  I  have  seen,  and  seeing  it  has  made  me 
think  that  we  were  too  hasty  in  condemning  poor 
Dick  Pritchard.  We  need  your  guidance,  sir. 
Do  you  hold  that  a  man  may  have  the  gift  of 
prophecy  in  this  Dispensation,  without  being  a 
sorcerer,  and  the  agent  of  the  Fiend?  " 

"  Alas !  'tis  not  I  that  can  be  your  guide  in  such 


222       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

a  matter,"  said  Wesley.  "  You  must  join  with  me 
in  seeking  for  guidance  from  above.  Let  us  go 
forth  and  see  what  is  this  new  wonder." 

"  'Tis  the  vision  of  his  trance — I  saw  it  with 
these  eyes  as  I  passed  along  the  high  ground  above 
the  Dog's  Teeth  Eeef — the  reef  was  well-nigh  bare 
and  naked,"  said  Hal.  "  Who  is  there  of  us  that 
could  tell  what  the  bottom  of  the  sea  looked  like? 
We  knew  what  the  simple  slopes  of  the  beach  were 
— the  spaces  where  the  tide  was  wont  to  ebb  and 
flow  over  are  known  to  all;  but  who  before  since 
the  world  began  saw  those  secret  hidden  deeps 
where  the  lobsters  lurk  and  crabs  half  the  size  of 
a  man's  body — I  saw  them  with  these  eyes  a  while 
agone — and  the  little  runnels — a  thousand  of  them, 
I  believe,  racing  through  channels  in  the  slime  as 
if  they  were  afraid  to  be  left  behind  when  the  sea 
was  ebbing  out  of  sight — and  the  sun  turned  all 
into  the  colour  of  blood!  What  does  it  all  mean, 
Mr.  Wesley — I  do  not  mean  the  man's  trance- 
dream,  but  the  thing  itself  that  hath  come  to 
pass?  " 

"  We  shall  go  forth  and  be  witnesses  of  all,"  said 
Wesley. 

He  was  not  excited ;  but  this  could  not  be  said  of 
his  companions;  they  betrayed  their  emotions  in 
various  ways.  Mr.  Hartwell  and  the  miller  were 
silent  and  apparently  stolid;  but  the  carrier  and 
the  smith  talked. 

Very  few  minutes  sufficed  to  bring  them  to  the 
summit  of  the  cliff  that  commanded  a  full  view  sea- 
ward. At  high  tide  the  waves  just  reached  the 
base  of  these  cliffs,  and  the  furthest  ebb  only  left 
bare  about  a  hundred  feet  of  sand  and  shingle,  with 
large  smooth  pebbles  in  ridges  beyond  the  groins 
of  the  out-jutting  rocks.  But  now  it  was  a  very. 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PKEVAILED   223 

different  picture  from  that  of  the  ordinary  ebb  that 
stretched  away  to  the  horizon  under  the  eyes  of  our 
watchers. 

The  sandy  breadth,  with  its  many  little  ribs  made 
by  the  waves,  sloped  into  a  line  of  sparse  sea  weed, 
tangled  tufts  of  green  and  brown,  and  some  long 
and  wiry,  and  others  flat  with  large  and  leathery 
bosses,  like  the  studs  of  a  shield.  But  beyond  this 
space  the  rocks  of  the  sea-bed  began  to  show, 
There  they  were  in  serrated  rows — rocks  that  had 
never  before  been  seen  by  human  eyes.  Some  lay 
in  long  sharp  ridges,  with  here  and  there  a  peak 
of  a  miniature  mountain,  and  beyond  these  lines  of 
ridges  there  was  a  broad  tableland,  elevated  in 
places  and  containing  huge  hollow  basins  brim- 
ming over  with  water,  out  of  which  every  now  and 
again  a  huge  fish  leaped,  only  to  find  itself  strug- 
gling among  the  thick  weeds.  Further  away  still 
there  was  a  great  breadth  of  ooze,  and  then  peak 
beyond  peak  of  rocks,  to  which  huge,  grotesque 
weeds  were  clinging,  having  the  semblance  of  snakes 
coiled  round  one  another  and  dying  in  that  close 
embrace. 

Looking  over  these  strange  spaces  was  like 
having  a  bird's-eye  view  of  an  unexplored  coun- 
try of  mountains  and  tablelands  and  valleys  inter- 
sected by  innumerable  streams.  The  whole  breadth 
of  sea-bed  was  veined  with  little  streams  hurrying 
away  after  the  lost  sea,  and  all  the  air  was  filled 
with  the  prattling  and  chattering  that  went  on 
through  these  channels. 

And  soon  one  became  aware  of  a  strange  motion 
of  struggling  life  among  the  forests  of  sea  weed. 
At  first  it  seemed  no  more  than  a  quivering  among 
the  giant  growths;  but  soon  one  saw  the  snake's 
head  and  the  narrow  shoulders  of  a  big  conger  eel, 


224       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

from  five  to  seven  feet  long,  pushed  through  the 
jungle  of  ooze,  to  be  followed  by  the  wriggling 
body;  there  were  congers  by  the  hundred,  and  the 
hard-dying  dog-fishes  by  the  score,  flapping  and 
forcing  their  way  from  stream  to  stream.  Stranded 
dying  fish  of  all  sorts  made  constant  movements 
where  they  lay,  and  whole  breadths  of  the  sea-bed 
were  alive  with  hurrying,  scurrying  crabs  and  lob- 
sters and  cray-fish.  Some  of  these  were  of  enor- 
mous size,  patriarchs  of  the  deep  that  had  lurked 
for  ages  far  out  of  reach  of  the  fisherman's  hook, 
and  had  mangled  many  a  creel. 

The  weirdness  of  this  unparalleled  picture  was 
immeasurably  increased  by  its  colouring,  for  over 
all  there  was  spread  what  had  the  effect  of  a  deli- 
cate crimson  gauze.  The  whole  of  the  sea-bed  was 
crimson,  for  it  was  still  dripping  wet,  and  glisten- 
ing with  reflections  of  the  red  western  sky.  At  the 
same  time  the  great  heat  of  the  evening  was  suck- 
ing the  moisture  out  of  the  spongy  sea  weeds,  and 
there  it  remained  in  the  form  of  a  faint  steam 
permeated  with  the  crimson  light. 

And  through  all  that  broad  space  under  the  eyes 
of  the  watchers  on  the  cliff  there  was  no  sign  of 
a  human  being.  They  might  have  been  the  ex- 
plorers of  stout  Cortez  who  stared  at  the  Pacific 
from  that  peak  in  Darien.  It  was  not  until  they 
had  gone  in  silence  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  along 
the  cliff  path  that  they  saw  where  the  people  of 
the  village  had  assembled.  The  shore  to  the  west- 
ward came  into  view  and  they  saw  that  a  crowd 
was  there.  The  sound  of  the  voices  of  the  crowd 
came  to  their  ears,  and  above  it  the  hard,  high 
monotone  like  that  of  a  town  crier  uttering  the 
words  that  Wesley  had  heard  while  yet  in  his 
room: 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   225 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  sea.  Repent — repent 
— repent." 

Once  more  they  stood  and  looked  down  over  the 
part  of  the  coast  that  had  just  been  disclosed — - 
the  eastern  horn  of  Greta  Bay,  but  no  familiar 
landmark  was  to  be  seen ;  on  the  contrary,  it  seemed 
to  them  that  they  were  looking  down  upon  a  new 
and  curious  region.  The  line  of  cliffs  was  familiar 
to  their  eyes,  but  what  was  that  curious  raised 
spine — that  long  sharp  ridge  stretching  outwards 
for  more  than  a  mile  on  the  glistening  shore? 

And  what  was  that  strange  object — that  huge 
bulk  lying  with  one  end  tilted  into  the  air  on  one 
shoulder  of  that  sharp  ridge? 

All  at  once  Wesley  had  a  curious  feeling  that  he 
had  seen  all  that  before.  The  sight  of  that  mighty 
bulk  and  the  knowledge  that  it  was  the  heavy 
ribbed  framework  of  a  large  ship  seemed  familiar. 
But  when  or  how  had  he  seen  it? 

It  was  not  until  Hartwell  spoke  that  he  under- 
stood how  this  impression  had  come  to  him. 

"  You  see  it — there — there — just  as  he  described 
it  to  us  when  he  awoke  from  his  trance? "  said 
Hartwell. 

And  there  indeed  it  was — the  fabric  of  the  East 
Indiaman  that  had  been  wrecked  years  before  on 
the  Dog's  Teeth  Reef,  and  there  was  the  Dog's 
Teeth  Reef  laid  bare  for  the  first  time  within  the 
memory  of  man ! 

It  was  the  skeleton  of  a  great  ship.  The  outer 
timbers  had  almost  wholly  disappeared — after 
every  gale  for  years  before  some  portion  of  the 
wreckage  had  come  ashore  and  had  been  picked  up 
by  the  villagers;  but  the  enormous  framework  to 
which  the  timbers  of  the  hull  had  been  bolted  had 
withstood  the  action  of  the  waves,  for  the  ship 


226       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

had  sunk  into  a  cradle  of  rock  that  held  her  firmly 
year  after  year.  There  it  lay  like  the  skeleton  of 
some  tremendous  monster  of  the  awful  depths  of 
the  sea — the  Kraken — a  survival  of  the  creatures 
that  lived  before  the  Flood.  The  three  stumps  of 
masts  which  stood  up  eight  or  ten  feet  above  the 
line  of  bulwarks  gave  a  curious  suggestion  to  a 
creature's  deformed  legs,  up  in  the  air  while  it 
lay  stranded  on  its  curved  back. 

And  the  crimson  sunset  shot  through  the  huge 
ribs  of  this  thing  and  spread  their  distorted 
shadows  sprawling  over  the  sands  at  the  base  of 
the  reef  and  upon  the  faces  of  the  people  who  stood 
looking  up  at  this  wonder. 

"  There  it  is — just  as  he  saw  it  in  his  trance! " 
said  Hal  Holmes.  "  He  saw  it  and  related  it  to 
us  afterward.  What  are  we  to  say  to  all  this,  Mr. 
Wesley?  All  that  he  predicted  so  far  has  come 
to  pass.  Are  we  safe  in  saying  that  yonder 
sun  will  be  setting  over  a  blazing  world  to-mor- 
row?" 

"  I  do  not  dare  to  say  anything,"  replied  Wesley. 
"  I  have  already  offered  my  opinion  to  Mr.  Hart- 
well,  which  is  that  there  may  be  a  kind  of  sym- 
pathy between  the  man  and  the  earth,  by  whose 
aid  he  has  been  able  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of 
a  spring  in  the  past  and  to  predict  these  marvels 
of  tides." 

"  That  is  a  diviner's  skill  derived  from  the 
demons  that  we  know  inhabit  the  inside  of  the 
earth,"  cried  Jake  Pullsford.  "  He  has  ever  had 
communication  with  these  unclean  things." 

"  That  works  so  far  as  the  tides  are  concerned," 
said  the  smith.  "  It  stands  to  reason  that  the 
demons  of  the  nether  world  must  know  all  about 
the  ebb  and  flow ;  but  how  did  he  foresee  the  laying 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PEEVAILED   227 
/ 

bare  of  yonder  secret?  "  He  pointed  to  the  body 
of  the  wreck. 

"Was  it  not  the  same  demons  that  dragged  the 
ship  to  destruction  on  the  reef,  and  is't  not  within 
their  province  to  know  all  that  happens  below  the 
surface  of  the  sea?  "  said  the  carrier. 

"Doubtless,"  said  the  smith.  "But  I  find  it 
hard  to  think  of  so  moderately  foolish  a  fellow  as 
Dick  Pritchard  being  hand  in  glove  with  a  fiend  of 
any  sort,  and  not  profiting  more  by  the  traffic — 
as  to  his  secular  circumstances,  I  should  say." 

"And  I  find  it  hard  to  think  of  him  as  urging 
men  to  repent,  if  he  be  an  ally  of  the  Evil  One," 
said  Hartwell. 

"  This  is  not  a  case  in  which  the  wisdom  of  man 
can  show  itself  to  be  other  than  foolishness,"  said 
Wesley.  "  But  I  am  now  moved  to  speak  to  the 
people  who  have  come  hither  to  see  the  wonder. 
Let  us  hasten  onward  to  the  highest  ground.  My 
heart  is  full." 

He  went  on  with  his  friends  to  a  short  spur  of 
the  cliff  about  twenty  feet  above  the  shingle  where 
groups  of  men  and  women  were  straying;  most  of 
them  had  been  down  to  the  wreck  and  nearly  all 
were  engaged  in  discussing  its  marvellous  appear- 
ance. Some  of  the  elder  men  were  recalling  for 
the  benefit  of  the  younger  the  circumstances  of  the 
loss  of  the  great  East  Indiaman,  and  the  affluence 
that  had  come  to  a  good  many  houses  in  the  Port, 
when  the  cargo  began  to  be  washed  ashore  before 
the  arrival  of  the  Preventive  men  and  the  soldiery 
from  Palmouth. 

But  while  the  larger  proportion  of  the  people 
were  engaged  in  discussing,  without  any  sense  of 
awe,  the  two  abnormal  tides  and  the  story  of  the 
wreck,  there  were  numbers  who  were  clearly  terror- 


228       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

stricken  at  the  marvels  and  at  the  prospect  of  the 
morrow.  A  few  women  were  clinging  together  and 
moaning  without  cessation,  a  girl  or  two  wept 
aloud,  a  few  shrieked  hysterically,  and  one  began 
to  laugh  and  gibber,  pointing  monkey  hands  in  the 
direction  of  the  wreck.  But  further  on  half  a 
dozen  young  men  and  maidens  were  engaged  in  a 
boisterous  and  an  almost  shocking  game  preserved 
in  Cornwall  and  some  parts  of  Wales  through  the 
ages  that  had  elapsed  since  it  was  practised  by  a 
by-gone  race  of  semi-savages.  They  went  through 
it  now  in  the  most  abandoned  and  barbaric  way, 
dancing  like  Bacchanalians  in  a  ring,  with  shouta 
and  wild  laughter. 

John  Wesley,  who  knew  what  it  was  to  be  human, 
had  no  difficulty  in  perceiving  that  these  wretched 
people  were  endeavouring  in  such  excesses  to  con- 
ceal the  terror  they  felt,  and  he  was  not  surprised 
to  find  a  number  of  intoxicated  men  clinging  to- 
gether and  singing  wildly  in  the  broad  moorland 
space  that  lay  on  the  landward  side  of  the  cliffs. 

"  This  is  the  work  of  Pritchard  the  water-finder, 
and  will  you  say  that  'tis  not  of  the  Devil?  "  cried 
Jake  Pullsford. 

"  Poor  wretches !  Oh,  my  poor  brothers  and 
sisters !  "  cried  Wesley.  "  Our  aim  should  be  to 
soothe  them,  not  to  denounce  them.  Never  have 
they  been  subjected  to  such  a  strain  as  that  which 
has  been  put  upon  them.  I  can  understand  their 
excesses.  l  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow 
we  die ' — that  is  the  cry  which  comes  from  all 
hearts  that  have  not  been  regenerated.  'Tis  the 
cry  of  the  old  Paganism  which  once  ruled  the  world, 
before  the  sweet  calm  of  Christianity  brought  men 
from  earth  to  heaven.  I  will  speak  to  them." 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILEI       229 

He  had  reached  the  high  ground  with  his  friends. 
There  was  a  sudden  spur  on  the  range  of  low  cliffs 
just  where  the  people  were  most  numerous.  They 
had  come  from  all  quarters  to  witness  the  wonders 
of  this  lurid  eve,  and,  as  was  the  case  at  Wesley's 
preaching,  everyone  was  asking  of  everyone  else 
how  so  large  an  assembly  could  be  brought  together 
in  a  neighbourhood  that  was  certainly  not  densely 
populated.  On  each  side  of  him  and  on  the  beach 
below  there  were  crowds,  and  on  every  face  the 
crimson  of  the  sinking  sun  flamed.  He  went  out 
to  the  furthest  point  of  the  cliff-spur  and  stood 
there  silent,  with  uplifted  arms. 

In  a  moment  the  whisper  spread : 

"  Mr.  Wesley  has  come — Mr.  Wesley  is  preach- 
ing!" 

There  was  the  sound  of  many  feet  trampling 
down  the  pebbles  of  the  beach.  The  people  flowed 
toward  him  like  a  great  wave  slowly  moving  over 
that  place  now  forsaken  by  the  waves.  The  young 
men  and  maidens  who  had  been  engaged  in  that 
fierce  wild  dance  among  the  wiry  herbage  flocked 
toward  him,  their  faces  shining  from  their  exer- 
tions, and  stood  catching  their  breath.  The  old 
men  who  had  been  staring  stolidly  through  the 
great  ribs  of  the  hulk,  slouched  through  the  ooze 
and  stood  sideways  beneath  him,  their  hands,  like 
the  gnarled  joints  of  a  thorn,  scooped  behind  their 
ears  lest  they  should  lose  a  word.  The  women, 
with  disordered  hair,  tears  on  their  faces,  the  terror 
of  anticipation  in  their  eyes,  waited  on  the  ground, 
gome  kneeling,  others  seated  in  various  postures. 

Then  there  came  a  deep  hush. 

He  stood  there,  a  solitary  figure,  black  against 
the  crimson  background  of  the  western  sky,  his 


arms  still  upraised.  It  might  have  been  a  statue 
carved  out  of  dark  marble  that  stood  on  the  spur 
of  the  cliff. 

And  then  he  began  to  speak. 

His  hands  were  still  uplifted  in  the  attitude  of 
benediction;  and  the  words  that  came  from  him 
were  the  words  of  the  Benediction. 

"  The  Peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing." 

The  Peace  of  God — that  was  the  message  which 
he  delivered  to  that  agitated  multitude,  and  it  fell 
upon  their  ears,  soothing  all  who  heard  and  banish- 
ing their  fears.  He  gave  them  the  message  of  the 
Father  to  His  children — a  message  of  love,  of  ten- 
derness— a  promise  of  protection,  of  infinite  pity, 
of  a  compassion  that  knew  no  limits — outliving  the 
life  of  the  world,  knowing  no  change  through  all 
ages,  the  only  thing  that  suffered  no  change — a 
compassion  which,  being  eternal,  would  outlive 
Time  itself — a  compassion  which  brought  with  it 
every  blessing  that  man  could  know — nay,  more — 
more  than  man  could  think  of;  a  compassion  that 
brought  with  it  the  supreme  blessing  that  could 
come  to  man — the  Peace  of  God  which  passeth  all 
understanding ! 

He  never  travelled  outside  this  message  of  Divine 
Peace,  although  he  spoke  for  a  full  hour. 

And  while  he  spoke  the  meaning  of  that  message 
fell  upon  the  multitude  who  listened.  They  felt 
that  Peace  of  which  he  spoke  falling  gently  upon 
them  as  cold  dew  at  the  close  of  a  day  of  intolerable 
heat.  They  realised  what  it  meant  to  them.  The 
Peace  descended  upon  them,  and  they  were  sensible 
of  its  presence.  The  dread  that  had  been  hanging 
over  them  all  the  day  was  swept  away  as  the  morn- 
ing mist  had  been  dispersed.  The  apprehension  of 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       231 

the  Judgment  was  lost  in  the  consciousness  of  a 
Divine  Love  surrounding  them.  They  seemed  to 
have  passed  from  an  atmosphere  of  fo3tid  vapours 
into  that  of  a  meadow  in  the  Spring  time.  They 
drank  deep  draughts  of  its  sweetness  and  were 
refreshed. 

When  he  had  begun  to  speak  the  sun  was  not  far 
from  setting  in  the  depths  of  a  crimson  sky,  and 
before  he  had  spoken  for  half  an  hour  the  immense 
red  disc,  magnified  by  the  vapours  in  the  air,  was 
touching  the  horizon.  With  its  disappearance  the 
colour  spread  higher  up  the  sky  and  drifted  round 
to  the  north,  gradually  changing  to  the  darkest 
purple.  Even  then  it  was  quite  possible  for  the 
people  to  see  one  another's  features  distinctly  in 
the  twilight,  but  half  an  hour  later  the  figure  of 
the  preacher  was  but  faintly  seen  through  the  dim- 
ness that  had  fallen  over  the  coast.  The  twilight 
had  been  almost  tropical  in  its  brevity,  and  the  ef- 
fect of  the  clear  voice  of  many  modulations  coming 
out  of  the  darkness  was  strange,  and  to  the  ears  that 
heard  it,  mysterious.  Just  before  it  ceased  there 
swept  upon  the  faces  of  his  listeners  a  cool  breath 
of  air.  It  came  with  a  suddenness  that  was  star- 
tling. During  all  the  day  there  had  not  been  a 
breath.  The  heat  had  seemed  to  be  so  solid,  and 
now  the  movement  of  the  air  gave  the  impression 
of  the  passing  of  a  mysterious  Presence.  It  was  as 
if  the  wings  of  a  company  of  angels  were  winnow- 
ing the  air,  as  they  fled  by,  bringing  with  them  the 
perfume  of  their  Paradise  for  the  refreshing  of  the 
people  of  the  earth.  Only  for  a  few  minutes  that 
cool  air  was  felt,  but  for  that  time  it  was  as  if 
the  Peace  of  God  had  been  made  tangible. 

When  the  preacher  ended  with  the  words  with 
which  he  had  begun,  the  silence  was  like  a  sigh. 


The  people  were  on  their  knees.  There  was  no 
one  that  did  not  feel  that  God  was  very  nigh  to 
him. 

And  the  preacher  felt  it  most  deeply  of  all. 
There  was  a  silence  of  intense  solemnity,  before  the 
Toice  was  heard  once  more  speaking  to  Heaven  in 
prayer — in  thanksgiving  for  the  Peace  that  had 
come  upon  this  world  from  above. 

He  knew  how  fully  his  prayer  had  been  answered 
when  he  talked  to  the  young  men  and  maidens  who 
had  been  among  his  hearers.  The  excitement  of 
the  evening  had  passed  away  from  all  of  them.  At 
the  beginning  of  his  preaching  there  had  been  the 
sound  of  weeping  among  them.  At  first  it  had 
been  loud  and  passionate;  but  gradually  it  had 
subsided  until  at  the  setting  of  the  sun  the  terror 
which  had  possessed  them  gave  place  to  the  peace 
of  the  twilight,  and  now  there  was  not  one  of  them 
that  did  not  feel  the  soothing  influence  that  comes 
only  when  the  angel  of  the  evening  hovers  with 
shadowy  outspread  wings  over  the  world. 

They  all  walked  slowly  to  their  homes ;  some  be- 
longed to  Porthawn  and  others  to  the  inland  vil- 
lages of  the  valley  of  the  Lana,  as  far  away  as 
Kuthallion,  and  the  light  breeze  that  had  been  felt 
during  the  preaching  became  stronger  and  less 
intermittent  now.  It  was  cool  and  gracious  be- 
yond expression,  and  it  brought  with  it  to  the  ears 
of  all  who  walked  along  the  cliffs  the  soothing 
whisper  of  the  distant  sea.  The  joyous  tidings 
«ame  that  the  sea  was  returning,  and  it  seemed  that 
with  that  news  came  also  the  assurance  that  the 
cause  for  dread  was  over  and  past. 

And  all  this  time  the  preacher  had  made  no  al- 
lusion to  the  voice  that  had  sounded  along  the  shore 
in  the  early  part  of  the  evening  predicting  the  over- 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PKEVAILED   233 

throw  of  the  world.  All  that  he  had  done  was  to 
preach  the  coming  of  Peace. 

"  You  may  resume  your  journeying,  Mr.  Wesley, 
as  soon  as  you  please.  May  he  not,  friend  Pulls- 
ford?  "  said  Hartwell  when  he  had  returned  to  his 
house.  "  There  is  no  need  for  us  to  keep  Mr.  Wes- 
ley among  us  when  we  know  that  he  is  anxious  to 
resume  his  preaching  further  west.  You  never 
mentioned  the  man's  name,  sir,  and  yet  you  have 
done  all — nay,  far  more  than  we  thought  it  possible 
for  you  to  accomplish." 

"  There  is  no  need  for  me  to  tarry  longer,"  re- 
plied Wesley.  "But  I  pray  of  you,  my  dear 
friends,  not  to  think  that  I  do  not  recognise  the 
need  there  was  for  me  to  return  to  you  with  all 
speed.  I  perceived  the  great  danger  that  threat- 
ened us  through  Pritchard,  and  I  was  glad  that 
you  sent  for  me.  I  hope  you  agree  with  me  in  be- 
lieving that  that  danger  is  no  longer  imminent." 

"  I  scarce  know  how  it  happened,"  said  Hart- 
well  ;  "  but  yesterday  I  had  a  feeling  that  unless 
you  preached  a  direct  and  distinct  rebuke  to 
Pritchard,  the  work  which  you  began  here  last 
month  would  suffer  disaster,  and  yet  albeit  you 
did  no  more  than  preach  the  Word  as  you  might  at 
any  time,  making  no  reference  to  the  things  that 
have  happened  around  us,  I  feel  at  the  present 
moment  that  your  position  is,  by  the  Grace  of  God, 
more  promising  of  good  than  it  has  ever  been." 

"  Ay,"  said  Jake  Pullsford.  "  But  I  am  not  so 
sure  that  the  vanity  of  that  man  should  not  have 
been  crushed.  There  is  no  telling  to  what  length 
he  may  not  go  after  all  that  has  happened.  The 
people  should  ha'  been  warned  against  him,  and  his 
sorceries  exposed." 

"  Think  you,  Jake,  that  the  best  way  to  destroy 


234       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

the  vanity  of  such  as  he  would  be  by  taking  notice 
of  what  lie  said  and  magnifying  it  into  a  menace?  " 
said  Hartwell.  "  Believe  me,  my  friend,  that  Mr. 
Wesley's  way  is  the  true  one.  Dick  Pritchard's 
vanity  got  its  hugest  filip  when  he  heard  that  Mr. 
Wesley  had  come  back  to  preach  against  him.  It 
will  receive  its  greatest  humiliation  when  he  learns 
that  Mr.  Wesley  made  no  remark  that  showed  he 
knew  aught  of  him  and  his  prophecies." 

"  He  will  take  full  credit  to  himself  for  what  has 
happened — of  that  you  may  be  sure,"  said  Jake, 
shaking  his  head.  "  Ay,  and  for  what  did  not 
happen,"  he  continued  as  an  afterthought.  "  Be 
certain  that  he  will  claim  to  have  saved  the  world 
as  Jonah  saved  the  Ninevites.  He  will  cling  to 
Jonah  to  the  end." 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  came  hither  when  you  called 
for  me,  my  brethren,"  said  Wesley.  "  Let  us  look 
at  the  matter  with  eyes  that  look  only  at  the  final 
issue.  I  would  fain  banish  from  my  mind  every 
thought  save  one,  and  that  is  spiritual  blessing  of 
the  people.  If  they  have  been  soothed  by  my  com- 
ing— if  even  the  humblest  of  them  has  been  led  to 
feel  something  of  what  is  meant  by  the  words  '  the 
Peace  of  God,'  I  give  thanks  to  God  for  having 
called  me  back.  I  have  no  more  to  say." 

And  that  was  indeed  the  last  word  that  was  said 
at  that  time  respecting  Pritchard  and  his  utter- 
ances. Wesley  and  his  friends  felt  that,  however 
deeply  the  people  had  been  impressed  by  the  nat- 
ural phenomena  which  had  followed  hard  on  his 
predictions  of  disaster  to  the  world,  he  would  not 
now  be  a  source  of  danger  to  the  work  which  had 
been  begun  in  Cornwall.  Wesley  had,  by  his 
preaching,  showed  that  he  would  give  no  counte- 
nance to  the  man.  Those  who  thought  that  it 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED      235 

would  be  consistent  with  his  methods  and  his 
Methodism  to  take  advantage  of  the  terror  with 
which  the  minds  of  the  people  had  become  imbued, 
in  order  to  bring  them  into  the  classes  that  had 
already  been  formed,  were  surprised  to  find  him 
doing  his  utmost  to  banish  their  fears.  He  had 
preached  the  Gospel  of  Peace,  not  of  Vengeance, 
the  Gospel  of  Love,  not  of  Anger. 

Awakening  shortly  after  midnight,  Wesley  heard 
the  sound  of  the  washing  of  the  waters  on  the  peb- 
bles at  the  base  of  the  cliffs.  There  was  no  noise 
of  breaking  waves,  only  the  soft,  even  lisp  and  lap 
of  the  last  ripples  that  were  crushed  upon  the  peb- 
bles— grateful  and  soothing  to  his  ears. 

Suddenly  there  came  to  him  another  sound — the 
monotone  of  the  watchman  calling  out  of  the 
distance : 

"  Repent — repent — repent !  The  Day  of  the  Lord 
is  at  hand.  Who  shall  abide  the  Day  of  His 
Wrath?  Repent — repent — repent!" 


XX 

THE  sunlight  was  in  his  room  when  he  awoke. 
He  had  a  sense  of  refreshment.  A  weight  seemed 
lifted  off  his  heart.  He  remembered  how  he  had 
awakened  the  previous  morning  in  the  same  bed 
with  a  feeling  of  perplexity.  He  had  found  it  im- 
possible to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  the  course  he 
should  pursue  in  regard  to  Pritchard.  He  had 
been  fearful  of  being  led  to  rebuke  a  man  who 
might  have  been  made  the  means  of  leading  even 
one  sinner  to  repentance.  He  asked  himself  if  he 
differed  as  much  from  that  man  as  the  average 
churchman  did  from  himself  in  his  methods.  He 
knew  how  grievous  he  regarded  the  rebukes  which 
he  had  received  from  excellent  clergymen  who 
looked  on  his  field  preaching  with  the  sternest  dis- 
approval; and  who  then  was  he  that  he  should 
presume  to  rebuke  a  man  who  had  been  led  by  his 
zeal  beyond  what  he,  Wesley,  thought  to  be  the 
Jbounds  of  propriety? 

He  had  felt  great  perplexity  on  awakening  on 
that  Sunday  morning;  but  he  had  been  given  help 
to  see  his  way  clearly  on  that  morning  of  mist,  and 
now  he  felt  greatly  at  ease.  He  had  nothing  to 
reproach  himself  with. 

He  recalled  all  the  events  of  the  day  before — all 
that  his  eyes  had  seen — all  that  his  ears  had  heard ; 
and  now  that  he  had  no  further  need  to  think  about 
Pritchard,  it  was  surprising  how  much  he  had  to 
recall  that  had  little  to  do  with  that  man.  He 
himself  felt  somewhat  surprised  that  above  all  that 

236 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       237 

had  been  said  to  him  during  the  day  the  words  that 
he  should  dwell  longest  upon  were  a  few  words 
that  had  fallen  from  Mr.  Hartwell.  He  had  hinted 
to  Mr.  Hartwell  that  John  Bennet  had  acted  so 
grossly  in  regard  to  him,  through  a  mad  jealousy; 
and  Mr.  Hartwell,  hearing  this,  had  lifted  up  his 
hands  in  amazement,  and  said: 

"  Absurdity  could  go  no  further !  " 

When  Hartwell  said  those  words  Wesley  had  not 
quite  grasped  their  full  import;  his  attention  had 
been  too  fully  occupied  with  the  further  extrava- 
gance which  he  had  witnessed  on  the  part  of 
Pritchard.  But  now  that  his  mind  was  at  ease 
he  recalled  the  words,  and  he  had  sufficient  self- 
possession  to  ask  himself  if  his  host  considered  that 
the  absurdity  was  to  be  found  in  Bennet's  fancying 
that  he,  Wesley,  was  his  rival.  If  so,  was  the  ab- 
surdity to  be  found  in  the  fancy  that  such  a  young 
woman  could  think  of  him,  Wesley,  in  the  light 
of  a  lover;  or  that  he  should  think  of  the  young 
woman  as  a  possible  wife? 

He  could  not  deny  that  the  thought  of  Nelly 
Polwhele  as  his  constant  companion  had  more  than 
once  come  to  him  when  he  was  oppressed  with  a 
sense  of  his  loneliness;  and  he  knew  that  when  he 
had  got  Mr.  Hartwell's  letter  calling  him  back  to 
Porthawn  he  had  felt  that  it  might  be  that  there 
was  what  some  men  called  Fate,  but  what  he  pre- 
ferred to  call  the  Hand  of  God,  in  this  matter. 
Was  he  being  led  back  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  her  again,  and  of  learning  truly  if  the  regard 
which  he  thought  he  felt  for  her  was  to  become  the 
love  that  sanctified  the  marriage  of  a  man  with  a 
woman? 

Well,  he  had  returned  to  her,  and  he  had  seen 
'(as  he  fancied)  her  face  alight  with  the  happiness 


238       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

of  his  return.  For  an  hour  he  had  thought  of  the 
gracious  possibility  of  being  able  to  witness  such 
an  expression  upon  her  face  any  time  that  he  came 
from  a  distant  preaching.  The  thought  was  a  de- 
light to  him.  Home — coming  home!  He  had  no 
home;  and  surely,  he  felt,  the  longing  for  a  home 
and  a  face  to  welcome  him  at  the  door  was  the 
most  natural — the  most  commendable — that  a  man 
could  have.  And  surely  such  a  longing  was  not 
inconsistent  with  his  devotion  to  the  work  which 
he  believed  it  was  laid  upon  him  to  do  while  his 
life  lasted. 

He  had  seen  her  and  talked  with  her  for  a  short 
time,  and  felt  refreshed  by  being  under  the  influ- 
ence of  her  freshness.  But  then  he  had  been  forced 
to  banish  her  from  his  mind  in  order  to  give  all 
his  attention  to  the  grave  matter  which  had  brought 
him  back  to  this  place.  He  had  walked  by  her  side 
through  the  mist  the  next  day,  and  never  once  had 
he  allowed  the  thought  of  her  to  turn  his  eyes  away 
from  the  purpose  which  had  called  him  forth 
into  the  mist  of  the  morning.  He  thought  of  her 
thoughtfulness  in  the  matter  of  the  mariner's  com- 
pass with  gratitude.  That  was  all.  His  heart 
was  full  of  his  work;  there  was  no  room  in  it  for 
anything  else. 

But  now  while  he  sat  up  in  the  early  sunshine 
that  streamed  through  his  window  he  felt  himself 
free  to  think  of  her;  and  the  more  he  thought  of 
her  the  more  he  wondered  how  he  could  ever  have 
been  led  to  believe  what  he  had  already  embodied  in 
a  book  respecting  the  advantages  of  celibacy  for 
the  clergy.  A  clergyman  should  not  only  have  a 
knowledge  of  God ;  a  knowledge  of  man  was  essen- 
.tial  to  success  in  his  calling;  and  a  knowledge  of 
man  meant  a  wide  sympathy  with  men,  and  this 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       239 

he  now  felt  could  only  be  acquired  by  one  who  had 
a  home  of  his  own.  The  influence  of  the  home  and 
its  associations  could  not  but  be  the  greatest  to 
which  a  man  was  subject.  The  ties  that  bind  a 
man  to  his  home  were  those  which  bind  him  to  his 
fellow-men.  The  res  angusta  domi,  which  some 
foolish  persons  regarded  as  detrimental  to  a  man's 
best  work,  were,  he  was  now  convinced,  the  very 
incidents  which  enabled  him  to  do  good  work, 
for  they  enabled  him  to  sympathise  with  his 
fellows. 

Theologians  do  not,  any  more  than  other  people, 
feel  grateful  to  those  who  have  shown  them  to  be 
in  the  wrong ;  but  Wesley  had  nothing  but  the  kind- 
liest feelings  for  Nelly  Polwhele  for  having  un- 
wittingly led  him  to  see  that  the  train  of  reason- 
ing which  he  had  pursued  in  his  book  was  founded 
upon  an  assumption  which  was  in  itself  the  result 
of  an  immature  and  impersonal  experience  of  any 
form  of  life  except  the  Academic,  and  surely  such 
a  question  as  he  had  discussed  should  be  looked 
at  from  every  other  standpoint  than  the  Academic. 

Most  certainly  he  was  now  led  to  think  of 
the  question  from  very  different  standpoints.  He 
allowed  his  thoughts  to  wander  to  the  girl 
herself.  He  thought  of  her  quite  apart  from  all 
womankind.  He  had  never  met  any  young  woman 
who  seemed  to  possess  all  the  charms  which  en- 
dear a  woman  to  a  man.  She  was  bright  as  a 
young  woman  should  be,  she  was  thoughtful  for 
the  needs  of  all  who  were  about  her,  she  had  shown 
herself  ready  to  submit  to  the  guidance  of  one  who 
was  older  and  more  experienced  than  herself.  He 
could  not  forget  how  she  had  promised  him  never 
again  to  enter  the  playhouse  which  had  so  fas- 
cinated her.  Oh,  she  was  the  most  gracious  crea- 


240       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

ture  that  lived — the  sweetest,  the  tenderest,  and 
surely  she  must  prove  the  most  devoted! 

So  his  imagination  carried  him  away;  and  then 
suddenly  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  that 
phrase  of  Mr.  Hartwell's  "Absurdity  could  go  no 
further" 

And  then,  of  course,  he  began  to  repeat  all  the 
questions  which  he  had  put  to  himself  when  he  had 
started  on  his  investigations  into  the  matter.  Once 
more  he  said  : 

"Where  lies  the  source  of  all  absurdities?" 

And  equally  as  a  matter  of  course  he  was  once 
again  led  in  the  direction  that  his  thoughts  had 
taken  before  until  he  found  himself  enquiring  if 
the  world  held  another  so  sweet  and  gracious  and 
sympathetic. 

It  was  not  until  he  was  led  once  more  to  his 
starting-point  that  he  began  to  feel  as  he  had  never 
done  before  for  those  of  his  fellow-men  who  allowed 
themselves  to  be  carried  away  by  dwelling  on  the 
simplest  of  the  questions  which  engrossed  him. 

"  'Tis  a  repetition  of  yesterday  morning,"  said 
he.  "We  set  out  pleasantly  enough  in  the  mist, 
and  after  an  hour's  profitless  wandering  we  found 
ourselves  at  the  point  whence  we  had  started — ay, 
and  the  young  woman  was  waiting  for  us  there  in 
person." 

Was  that  morning's  wandering  to  be  typical  of 
his  life?  he  wondered.  Was  he  to  be  ever  straying 
along  a  misty  coast,  and  evermore  to  be  finding 
himself  at  the  point  whence  he  had  started,  with 
Nelly  Polwhele  waiting  for  him  there? 

An  absurdity,  was  it? 

Well,  perhaps — but,  after  all,  should  he  not  be 
doing  well  in  asking  Mr.  Hartwell  what  had  been 
in  his  mind  when  he  had  made  use  of  that  phrase? 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   241 

Mr.  Hartwell  had  undoubtedly  something  in  his 
mind,  and  he  was  a  level-headed  man  who  had  ac- 
customed himself  to  look  at  matters  without  preju- 
dice and  to  pronounce  an  opinion  based  on  his 
common  sense.  It  might  be  that  he  could  see  some 
grave  reason  why  he,  Wesley,  should  dismiss  that 
young  woman  forever  from  his  thoughts — forever 
from  his  heart.  .  .  . 

But,  of  course,  he  reserved  to  himself  the  right 
to  consider  all  that  Mr.  Hartwell  might  say  on  this 
matter,  and — if  he  thought  it  right — to  exercise 
his  privilege  of  veto  in  regard  to  his  conclusions. 
He  was  not  prepared  to  accept  the  judgment  of  Mr. 
Hartwell  without  reserve. 

Following  this  line  of  thought,  he  quickly  saw 
that  whatever  Mr.  Hartwell  might  have  to  say,  and 
however  his  conclusions  might  be  put  aside,  it 
would  be  necessary  for  him,  Wesley,  to  acquaint 
all  those  men  who  were  associated  with  him  in  his 
work  with  his  intention  of  marrying  a  certain 
young  wroman.  There  were  his  associates  in  Lon- 
don, in  Bristol,  in  Bath,  and  above  all  there  was 
his  brother  Charles.  Would  they  be  disposed  to 
think  that  such  a  union  would  be  to  the  advantage 
or  to  the  detriment  of  the  work  to  which  they  were 
all  devoted? 

The  moment  he  thought  of  his  brother  he  knew 
what  he  might  expect.  Up  to  that  moment  it  had 
really  never  occurred  to  him  that  any  objection 
that  might  not  reasonably  be  overruled,  could  be 
offered  to  his  marrying  Nelly  Polwhele.  But 
so  soon  as  he  asked  himself  what  his  brother 
would  say  when  made  aware  of  his  intention,  he 
perceived  how  it  was  conceivable  that  his  other 
friends  might  agree  with  Mr.  Hartwell.  For  him- 
self, he  had  become  impressed  from  the  first  with 


242       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

gome  of  those  qualities  on  the  part  of  Nelly  Pol- 
whele  which,  he  was  convinced,  made  her  worthy  of 
being  loved  by  the  most  fastidious  of  men.  He  had 
long  ago  forgotten  that  she  was  only  the  daughter 
of  a  fisherman,  and  that  she  owed  her  refinement 
of  speech  to  the  patronage  of  the  Squire's  daugh- 
ters whose  maid  she  had  been. 

But  what  would  his  brother  say  when  informed 
that  it  Avas  his  desire  to  marry  a  young  woman  who 
had  been  a  lady's  maid?  Would  not  his  brother  be 
right  to  assume  that  such  a  union  would  be  detri- 
mental to  the  progress  of  the  work  in  which  they 
were  engaged?  Had  they  not  often  talked  together 
deploring  how  so  many  of  their  brethren  in  the 
Church  had  brought  contempt  upon  their  order 
through  their  loss  of  self-respect  in  marrying 
whomsoever  their  dissolute  patrons  had  ordered 
them  to  marry?  What  respect  could  anyone  have 
for  his  lordship's  chaplain  who  was  content  to  sit 
at  the  side  table  at  meals  and  in  an  emergency  dis- 
charge the  duties  of  a  butler,  and  comply  without 
hesitation  to  his  lordship's  command  to  marry  her 
ladyship's  maid,  or,  indeed,  any  one  of  the  servants 
whom  it  was  found  desirable  to  have  married? 

The  thing  was  done,  every  day;  that  was  what 
made  it  so  deplorable,  he  and  his  brother  had 
agreed;  and  in  consequence  day  by  day  the  influ- 
ence of  the  clergy  was  declining.  Was  he  then 
prepared  to  jeopardise  the  work  to  which  he  had 
set  his  hand  by  such  a  union  as  he  was  contem- 
plating? 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  from  where  he  had  been 
sitting  by  the  window. 

"  Heaven  forgive  me  for  having  so  base  a 
thought ! "  he  cried.  "  Heaven  forgive  me  for 
being  so  base  as  to  class  the  one  whom  I  love  with 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       243 

such  creatures  as  his  patron  orders  his  chaplain 
to  marry!  She  is  a  good  and  innocent  child,  and 
if  she  will  come  to  me  I  shall  feel  honoured.  I 
shall  prove  to  all  the  world  that  a  woman,  though 
lowly-born,  may  yet  be  a  true  helpmeet  for  such 
as  I.  She  will  aid  me  in  my  labours,  not  impede 
them.  I  know  now  that  I  love  her.  I  know  now 
that  she  will  be  a  blessing  to  me.  I  love  her,  and 
I  pray  that  I  may  ever  love  her  truly  and  honestly." 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that  the  very 
thought  of  opposition  should  strengthen  him.  An 
hour  earlier  he  had  been  unable  to  assure  himself 
that  his  feeling  for  her  was  love,  but  now  he  felt 
assured  on  this  point:  he  loved  her,  and  he  had 
never  before  loved  a  woman.  She  was  the  first 
fruit  of  his  mission  to  Cornwall.  She  had  pro- 
fessed the  faith  to  which  even  he  himself  had  failed 
to  attain  until  he  had  been  preaching  for  years. 
Bound  to  her  by  a  tie  that  was  the  most  sacred  that 
could  exist  between  a  man  and  a  woman,  his  most 
earnest  hope  was  to  hold  her  to  him  by  another 
bond  whose  strands  were  interwoven  with  a  sym- 
pathy that  was  human  as  well  as  divine.  His  mind 
was  made  up  at  last. 

He  was  early  at  breakfast  with  his  host,  but  he 
did  not  now  think  it  necessary  to  ask  Mr.  Hartwell 
what  he  had  meant  by  his  reference  to  the  ab- 
surdity of  John  Bennet's  jealousy.  The  morning 
gave  promise  of  a  day  of  brilliant  sunshine  and 
warmth.  There  was  nothing  sinister  in  the  aspect 
of  the  sun,  such  as  had  been  noted  on  the  previous 
day. 

"  Ah,  sir/'  said  Hartwell,  "  you  came  hither  with 
a  blessing  to  us  all,  and  you  will  leave  with  a  sense 
of  having  accomplished  by  the  exercise  of  your  own 
judgment  far  more  than  we  looked  for  at  such  a 


244       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

time.  The  boats  have  put  out  to  the  fishing  ground 
once  more,  and  the  dread  that  seemed  overhanging 
our  poor  friends  sank  with  the  setting  sun  last 
evening." 

"  Not  to  me  be  the  praise — not  to  me,"  said 
Wesley,  bowing  his  head  in  all  humility.  After  a 
few  moments  he  raised  his  head  quite  suddenly, 
saying : 

"  You  have  referred  to  my  judgment,  dear  friend ; 
I  wonder  if  you  think  that  in  many  matters  my 
judgment  is  worthy  to  be  depended  on?  " 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  know  of  no  man  in  the  world 
whose  judgment  in  all  reasonable  matters  I  would 
accept  sooner  than  yours,"  replied  Hart  well. 
"  Why,  Mr.  Wesley,  who  save  you  would  have 
foreseen  a  way  of  avoiding  the  trouble  which 
threatened  us  by  such  means  as  you  adopted? 
Were  not  we  all  looking  for  you  to  administer  a 
rebuke  to  the  man  whose  vanity  carried  him  so  far 
away  from  wrhat  we  held  to  be  discreet?  Was 
there  one  of  us  who  foresaw  that  the  right  way  of 
treating  him  was  to  let  him  alone?" 

"  I  dare  not  say  that  'twas  my  own  judgment 
that  guided  me,"  said  Wesley.  "  But — I  hope, 
friend  Hartwell,  that  I  shall  never  be  led  to  take 
any  step  that  will  jeopardise  your  good  opinion  of 
my  capacity  to  judge  what  course  is  the  right  one 
to  pursue  in  certain  circumstances." 

"  Believe  me,  Mr.  Wesley,  after  the  events  of 
yesterday  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  say  that  you  were 
in  the  right  and  I  in  the  wrong,  should  I  ever  be 
disposed  to  differ  from  you  on  a  matter  of  moment. 
But  I  cannot  think  such  a  difference  possible  to 
arrive,"  said  Hartwell. 

"  Differences  in  judgment  are  always  possible 
among  good  friends,"  said  Wesley. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       245 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you  some 
day,  Mr.  Wesley,  on  the  subject  of  the  influence  of 
such  powers  as  are  at  the  command  of  Pritchard," 
said  Hartwell.  "  Are  they  the  result  of  sorcery 
or  are  they  a  gift  from  above?  I  have  been  think- 
ing a  great  deal  about  that  trance  of  his  which  we 
witnessed.  How  was  it  possible  for  him  to  fore- 
see the  place  and  the  form  of  that  wreck,  think 
you?" 

"  Howsoever  his  powers  be  derived,"  replied 
Wesley,  "  the  lesson  that  we  must  learn  from  his 
case  is  that  we  cannot  be  too  careful  in  choosing 
our  associates.  For  myself,  I  have  already  said 
that  I  mistrusted  him  from  the  first,  as  I  should  any 
man  practising  with  a  divining  rod." 

"  We  should  have  done  so,  too,  sir,  only  that  we 
had  become  so  accustomed  to  his  wTater-finding,  it 
seemed  as  natural  to  send  for  him  when  sinking  a 
well  as  it  was  to  send  for  the  mason  to  build  the 
wall  round  it  when  the  water  was  found." 

This  was  all  that  they  said  at  that  time  touch- 
ing the  remarkable  incidents  of  the  week.  Both  of 
them  seemed  to  regard  the  case  of  Pritchard  as 
closed,  although  they  were  only  in  the  morning  of 
the  day  which  the  man  had  named  in  his  predic- 
tion. Mr.  Hartwell  even  assumed  that  his  guest 
would  be  anxious  to  set  out  on  his  return  to  the 
west  before  noon,  and  he  was  gratified  when  Wes- 
ley asked  for  leave  to  stay  on  for  a  day  or  two  yet. 

Wesley  spent  an  hour  or  two  over  his  corre- 
spondence, and  all  the  time  the  matter  which  he  had 
at  heart  caused  him  to  lay  down  his  pen  and  lie 
back  in  his  chair,  thinking,  not  upon  the  subject  of 
his  letters,  but  upon  the  question  of  approaching 
Nelly  Polwhele,  and  upon  the  question  of  the  letter 
which  he  wrould  have  to  write  to  his  brother  when 


246       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

he  had  seen  the  girl ;  for  whether  she  accepted  him 
or  refused  him,  he  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  inform 
his  brother  as  to  what  had  occurred. 

The  result  of  his  meditations  was  as  might  have 
been  expected.  When  a  man  who  is  no  longer 
young  gives  himself  up  to  consider  the  advisability 
of  offering  marriage  to  a  young  woman  with  whom 
he  has  not  been  in  communication  for  much  more 
than  a  month,  he  usually  procrastinates  in  regard 
to  the  deciding  scene.  Wesley  felt  that  perhaps  he 
had  been  too  hasty  in  coming  to  the  conclusion  that 
a  marriage  with  Nelly  would  bring  happiness  to 
them  both.  Only  a  few  hours  had  elapsed  since  he 
had,  as  he  thought,  made  up  his  mind  that  he  loved 
her.  Should  he  not  refrain  from  acting  on  such  an 
impulse?  What  would  be  the  consequence  if  he 
were  to  ask  the  young  woman  to  be  his  wife  and 
find  out  after  a  time  that  he  should  not  have  been 
so  sure  of  himself?  Surely  so  serious  a  step  as  he 
was  contemplating  should  be  taken  with  the  utmost 
deliberation.  He  should  put  himself  to  the  test. 
Although  he  had  been  looking  forward  to  seeing  the 
girl  this  day,  he  would  not  see  her  until  the  next 
day — nay,  he  was  not  confident  that  he  might  not 
perceive  that  his  duty  lay  in  waiting  for  several 
days  before  approaching  her  with  his  offer. 

That  was  why,  when  he  left  the  house  to  take  the 
air,  he  walked,  not  in  the  direction  of  the  village, 
where  he  should  run  the  best  chance  of  meeting  her, 
but  toward  the  cliffs,  which  were  usually  deserted 
on  week  days,  except  by  the  Squire's  grooms,  who 
exercised  the  horses  in  their  charge  upon  the  fine 
dry  sand  that  formed  a  large  plateau  between  the 
pathway  and  the  struggling  trees  on  the  outskirts 
of  Court  Park. 

He  went  musing  along  the  cliff  wray,  thinking  of 


the  contrast  between  this  day  and  the  previous  one 
— of  the  contrast  between  those  sparkling  waves 
that  tossed  over  each  other  in  lazy  play,  and  the 
slime  and  ooze  which  had  lain  bare  and  horrid  with 
their  suggestions  of  destruction  and  disaster.  It 
was  a  day  such  as  one  could  scarcely  have  dreamt 
of  following  so  sinister  a  sunset  as  he  had  watched 
from  this  place.  It  was  a  day  that  made  him  glad 
that  he  had  not  uttered  a  harsh  word  in  rebuke  of 
the  man  who  had  troubled  him — indeed  he  felt  most 
kindly  disposed  toward  Pritchard  ;  he  was  certainly 
ready  to  forgive  him  for  having  been  the  means  of 
bringing  him,  Wesley,  back  to  this  neighbourhood. 

He  wondered  if  it  had  not  been  for  Pritchard, 
would  he  have  returned  to  Ruthallion  and  Port- 
hawn.  Was  the  affection  for  Nelly,  of  which  he  had 
become  conscious  during  his  journeying  in  the 
west,  strong  enough  at  that  time  to  carry  him  back 
to  Porthawn,  or  had  it  matured  only  since  he  had 
come  back  to  her? 

He  wondered  and  mused,  strolling  along  the  path 
above  the  blue  Cornish  waters.  Once  as  he  stood 
for  a  while,  his  eyes  looked  longingly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  little  port.  He  felt  impatient  for  more 
than  a  few  moments — impatient  that  he  should  be 
so  strict  a  disciplinarian  in  regard  to  himself.  It 
was  with  a  sigh  he  turned  away  from  where  the 
roofs  of  the  nearest  houses  could  just  be  seen,  and 
resumed  his  stroll  with  unfaltering  feet.  He  had 
made  his  resolution  and  he  would  keep  to  it. 

But  he  did  not  get  further  than  that  little  dip 
in  the  cliffs  where  he  had  once  slept  and  awakened 
to  find  Nelly  Polwhele  standing  beside  him.  The 
spot  had  a  pleasant  memory  for  him.  He  remem- 
bered how  he  had  been  weary  when  he  had  lain, 
down  there,  and  how  he  had  risen  up  refreshed. 


248       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

Surely  he  must  have  loved  her  even  then,  he 
thought.  What,  was  it  possible  that  he  had  known 
her  but  a  few  days  at  that  time?  His  recollection 
of  her  coming  to  him  was  as  that  of  someone  to 
whom  he  had  been  attached  for  years. 

He  smiled  as  he  recalled  the  tale  which  he  had 
once  read  of  the  magician  Merlin,  who  had  woven  a 
bed  of  rushes  for  the  wife  of  King  Mark,  on  which 
she  had  but  to  lie  and  forthwith  she  saw  whomso- 
ever she  wished  to  see.  Well,  here  he  was  in  the 
land  of  King  Mark  of  Cornwall,  and  there  was  the 
place  where  he  had  made  his  bed.  .  .  . 

He  had  been  contemplating  the  comfortable  hol- 
low between  the  rocks,  thinking  his  thoughts,  and 
he  did  not  raise  his  eyes  for  some  time.  When  he 
did  he  saw  Nelly  Polwhele  coming  toward  him,  not 
along  the  cliffs,  but  across  the  breadth  of  moorland 
beyond  which  was  the  Court  Park. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

"  'Tis  by  a  happy  chance  we  are  brought  to- 
gether," Wesley  said  while  he  held  her  hand. 

But  Nelly  Polwhele  made  haste  to  assure  him 
that  it  was  not  by  chance;  she  had  been  with  her 
young  ladies  at  the  Court,  she  said,  and  from  the 
high  ground  she  had  spied  upon  him  on  his  walk, 
and  had  come  to  him  through  the  sparse  hedges  of 
the  park. 

He  smiled  at  the  eagerness  with  which  she  dis- 
claimed such  an  ally  as  chance.  He  had  not  had  a 
wide  experience  of  young  women,  but  he  had  a 
shrewd  conviction  that  the  greater  number  of  them 
would  have  hastened  to  acknowledge  his  suggestion 
rather  than  to  repudiate  it.  She  was  innocent  as  a 
child. 

"  By  whatsoever  means  we  have  been  brought  to- 
gether, I  for  one  must  think  it  happy,"  said 
he.  "  Do  you  go  to  your  friends  yonder  every 
day?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir;  but  they  have  charged  me  to  keep 
them  apprised  of  your  preaching  since  you  came 
hither,  and  thus  I  went  to  them  yesterday — that 
was  after  your  morning  preaching — and  to-day  to 
tell  them  of  the  evening.  Oh,  sir,  surely  there  was 
never  aught  seen  that  would  compare  with  the  hap- 
penings of  yester  eve!  Even  while  I  was  rehears- 
ing all  to  my  young  ladies,  I  had  a  feeling  that  I 
was  telling  them  what  I  had  seen  in  a  dream.  I 
do  think  that  I  have  had  a  dream  more  than  once 
that  was  strangely  like  all  that  was  before  my  eyes 

249 


250       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

— a  dream  of  drowning  and  seeing  in  a  blood-red 
light  the  mysteries  of  the  sea-bed." 

"A  strange  thing,  my  child!  I  have  never  seen 
a  stranger  thing,"  said  he.  "  It  did  not  seem  a 
wonder  to  me  that  the  people  were  so  agitated." 

"  They  thought  for  sure  that  the  end  of  the 
world  had  come,"  said  she.  "  And  indeed  I  began 
to  feel  that  poor  Dick  Pritchard  had  truly  been  sent 
to  warn  us." 

"  And  how  was  his  warning  taken  by  many?  "  he 
cried.  "  Worse  than  the  Ninevites  were  some  that 
I  saw  here.  Of  sackcloth  there  was  none  on  their 
limbs — of  repentance  their  hearts  were  empty.  I 
hope,  my  child,  that  you  did  not  see  some  of  those 
whom  I  saw  here — dancing — wild — pagan  creatures 
of  the  woods!  And  their  dance!  Pagan  of  the 
worst — an  orgy  of  the  festival  of  the  god  Saturn— 
an  abomination  of  Baal  and  Ashtoreth.  And  I 
asked  myself,  *  Is  it  possible  that  this  is  how  a 
solemn  warning  of  the  coming  of  the  Dreadful  Day 
is  taken  by  a  Christian  people? '  But  you,  I  trust, 
did  not  see  all  that  came  before  me?  " 

"  I  saw  enough  to  tell  me  that  Dick  Pritchard's 
warning  was  not  a  true  one,"  said  she.  "  I  was  by 
the  side  of  father  below  the  wreck.  He  had  seen 
the  Gloriana  founder,  and  if  Dick  Pritchard  had 
prophesied  that  he  should  live  to  look  upon  her  hull 
again  after  all  the  years  that  have  passed,  he  would 
have  laughed.  And  some  of  the  men  about  us  on 
the  beach  that  had  never  been  bare  of  water  since 
the  world  began,  talked  like  wild  men.  If  the  world 
was  to  come  to  an  end  before  another  set  o'  sun  they 
meant  to  enjoy  themselves — the  Court — they  whis- 
pered of  breaking  through  the  doors  of  the  Court 
and  feasting  for  once  and  for  the  last  time.  One  of 
them — David  Cairns  is  his  name — cried  that  at  the 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED       251 

Day  of  Judgment  all  men  were  equal,  and  he  would 
head  any  band  of  fellows  that  had  the  spirit  to  face 
the  Squire  and  call  for  the  key  of  the  cellar.  Father 
called  him  a  rascal,  and  he  replied.  Some  were 
taking  his  part  and  some  the  part  of  father,  when 
the  cry  went  up  that  Mr.  Wesley  was  nigh.  That 
was  the  end  of  the  strife,  sir." 

"  To  tell  me  this  last  is  to  gladden  my  heart,  my 
dear,"  he  said,  and  again  he  clasped  one  of  her 
hands  in  both  his  own.  But  he  did  not  do  so  with 
the  fervour  of  a  lover.  His  heart  was  not  dwelling 
upon  the  purpose  which  he  had  been  considering 
since  he  rose;  the  girl's  story  had  absorbed  him. 
"  And  now  I  hope  that  the  good  folk  will  settle 
down  once  more  into  their  quiet  and  useful  lives," 
he  added. 

"  They  will  not  be  able  to  do  so  for  some  time," 
she  replied,  shaking  her  head.  "  All  who  were 
present  at  the  preaching  have  already  returned  to 
their  work;  the  boats  that  were  idle  for  nearly  a 
week  put  out  to  the  fishing  early  in  the  morning; 
but  there  are  other  places  where  Dick  Pritchard's 
talk  was  heard,  and  the  miners  made  it  a  good  ex- 
cuse for  quitting  their  labour." 

"  Poor  fellows,  I  shall  go  among  them  at  once ;  I 
may  be  able  to  help  them,"  said  he. 

"  Do  you  think  of  going  at  once,  sir?  "  she  asked 
quickly. 

"  At  once,"  he  replied.  "  Is  there  any  time  to 
lose?" 

"  And  you  will  not  return  to  us?  " 

Her  question  came  from  her  like  a  sigh — a  sigh 
that  is  quickly  followed  by  a  sob. 

He  looked  at  her  for  some  moments  in  silence. 
He  had  a  thought  that  if  he  meant  to  tell  her  that 
he  loved  her,  no  better  opportunity  would  be  likely 


252       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

to  present  itself.  This  was  for  the  first  few  mo- 
ments, but  his  thought  was  succeeded  by  a  feeling 
that  it  would  be  a  cruelty  to  shock  this  innocent 
prattling  child  with  his  confession.  She  could  not 
be  otherwise  than  shocked  were  he  to  tell  her  that 
his  desire  was  to  get  her  promise  to  marry  him.  He 
would  adhere  to  his  resolution  to  wait.  He  would 
make  another  opportunity  if  one  did  not  present 
itself. 

"  If  it  be  God's  will  I  shall  return  to  you,"  he 
said.  "  Yes,  in  good  time — in  good  time." 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  said.  "  It  was  because  I  feared 
that  you  would  go  away  at  once  and  not  return  for 
a,  long  time,  that  I  made  haste  to  reach  you  when 
I  saw  you  from  the  park." 

"  Why  should  my  going  affect  you,  Nelly? "  he 
asked.  He  wondered  if  the  opportunity  which  he 
looked  for,  and  yet  was  anxious  to  avoid,  would  per- 
sist in  remaining  within  easy  reach. 

"  I — I — the  truth  is,  sir,  that  I  wanted — I  wished 
greatly — to  ask  your  advice,"  she  said. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  find  that  you  have  placed 
overmuch  dependence  on  me,"  he  said.  "  Let  us 
walk  along  the  cliffs  and  talk  as  we  pursue  our  way. 
Not  that  I  am  anxious  to  leave  this  spot;  it  bears 
many  happy  memories  to  me.  Was  it  not  here  that 
you  came  to  me  on  the  day  of  my  first  preaching, 
ministering  to  my  needs?  " 

She  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  Ah,  sir,  all  I  did  was  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  good  that  has  come  to  me  through  your  words. 
I  want  your  counsel  now.  I  am  sometimes  very 
unhappy  by  reason  of  my  doubts  in  a  matter  on 
which  I  should  have  none." 

"  Tell  me  your  grief,  dear  child.  Have  you  not 
lived  long  enough  to  know  that  when  the  cause  of 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       253 

your  unhappiness  is  told  to  another,  it  weighs  less 
heavily  upon  you?  What,  did  you  not  confide  in 
me  on  Saturday?  'Tis  surely  not  from  that  man 
Bennet  that " 

"  Oh,  no ;  he  has  naught  to  do  with  my  trouble. 
It  comes  not  from  anyone  but  my  own  self — from 
my  own  foolishness.  You  have  a  mind  to  hear  the 
story  of  a  young  girl's  foolishness  who  knew  not 
her  own  mind — her  own  heart?  " 

"  If  you  are  quite  sure  that  you  wish  to  tell  it 
to  me.  You  may  be  assured  that  you  will  find  in 
me  a  sympathetic  listener.  Is  there  any  one  of  us 
that  can  say  in  truth  that  his  heart  or  hers  has  not 
some  time  been  guilty  of  foolishness?  " 

"  The  worst  of  it  is  that  what  seems  foolishness, 
to-day  had  the  semblance  of  wisdom  yesterday. 
And  who  can  say  that  to-morrow  we  may  not  go- 
back  to  our  former  judgment?  " 

"  That  is  the  knowledge  that  has  come  to  you 
from  experience." 

"  It  has  come  to  me  as  the  conclusion  of  my  story 
— such  as  it  is." 

"  'Tis  sad  to  think  that  our  best  teacher  must  ever 
be  experience,  my  child.  But  if  you  have  learned 
your  lesson  you  should  be  accounted  fortunate. 
There  are  many  to  whom  experience  comes  only  to- 
be  neglected  as  a  teacher." 

"  I  have  had  experience — a  little — and  all  that  it 
has  taught  to  me  is  to  doubt.  A  year  ago  I  thought 
that  I  loved  a  man.  To-day  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  love  him  or  not — that  is  all  my  poor  story,  sir." 

She  had  not  spoken  fluently,  but  faltering — with 
many  pauses — a  little  wistfully,  and  with  her  eyes 
on  the  ground. 

He  stopped  suddenly  in  his  walk.  He,  too,  had 
his  eyes  upon  the  ground.  He  had  not  at  once  ap- 


254       THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED 

predated  the  meaning  of  her  words,  but  after  a 
pause  it  came  upon  him :  he  understood  what  her 
words  meant  to  him. 

She  loved  another  man. 

How  could  he  ever  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  such  a  girl  as  this  was  free? 
That  was  the  first  thought  which  came  to  him.  Had 
he  not  heard  how  every  youth  for  miles  round  was 
in  love  with  Nelly  Polwhele?  Had  he  not  seen  how 
one  man  had  almost  lost  his  senses  through  love  of 
her? 

And  yet  he  had  been  considering  the  question  of 
asking  her  to  marry  him,  assuming  from  the  very 
first  that  she  must  be  free !  He  had  been  consider- 
ing the  matter  from  his  own  standpoint,  asking 
himself  if  it  would  not  be  well  to  be  assured  of  his 
own  love  for  her  before  telling  her  that  he  loved  her ; 
and  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  should  not 
use  any  undue  haste  in  saying  the  words  which,  he 
hoped,  would  link  their  lives  together.  He  had 
never  entertained  a  suspicion  that  he  might  be  too 
late  in  making  his  appeal  to  her.  It  was  now  a 
shock  to  him  to  learn,  as  he  had  just  done,  that  he 
was  too  late. 

It  took  him  some  time  to  recover  himself. 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  pray  you  to 
tell  to  me  again  what  you  have  just  said." 

"  I  am  well-nigh  ashamed  to  say  it,  sir,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  I  am  afraid  that  you  may  not  think  well 
of  me.  You  may  think  that  there  is  some  truth  in 
the  reports  that  have  gone  abroad  concerning  me." 

"  Reports?  I  have  heard  no  reports.  I  thought 
of  you  as  I  found  you,  and  all  that  I  thought  was 
good.  I  think  nothing  of  you  now  that  is  not  good. 
Ah,  child,  you  do  not  know  what  direction  my; 
thoughts  of  you  have  taken !  Alas  I  alas !  " 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       255 

It  was  her  turn  to  be  startled.  He  saw  the  effect 
that  his  words  had  produced  upon  her,  and  he  has- 
tened to  modify  it.  He  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to 
say  a  word  that  might  even  in  a  distant  way  sug- 
gest to  her  the  direction  in  which  his  thoughts — his 
hopes — had  so  recently  led  him. 

"  Have  I  spoken  too  vaguely?  "  he  said.  "  Surely 
not.  But  I  will  be  explicit,  and  assure  you  that 
from  the  day  we  walked  through  the  valley  side  by 
side  I  have  thought  of  you  as  a  good  daughter — an 
honest  and  innocent  young  woman,  thoughtful  for 
the  well-being  of  others." 

"  Oh,  sir,  your  good  opinion  is  everything  to 
me !  "  she  cried.  "  But  I  feel  that  I  have  not  earned 
it  truly.  Vanity  has  ever  been  my  besetting  sin — 
vanity  and  fickleness.  That  is  what  I  have  to  con- 
fess to  you  now  before  asking  you  for  your  counsel." 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  give  you  any  counsel 
except  that  which  I  am  assured  must  be  for  your 
own  well-being.  Tell  me  all  that  is  weighing  on 
your  heart,  and,  God  helping  me,  I  will  try  to  help 
you." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all — all  that  I  may  tell,  sir.  'Tis 
not  much  to  tell,  but  it  means  a  great  deal  to  me. 
In  brief,  Mr.  Wesley,  a  .year  ago  I  was  at  Bristol 
and  there  I  met  a  worthy  man,  who  asked  me  to 
marry  him.  I  felt  then  that  I  loved  him  so  truly 
that  'twould  be  impossible  for  me  ever  to  change, 
and  so  I  gave  him  my  promise.  I  had  been  ofttimes 
wooed  before,  but  because  my  heart  had  never  been 
touched  the  neighbours  all  affirmed  that  I  had  the 
hardest  heart  of  any  maiden  in  the  Port.  They 
may  have  been  right;  but,  hard-hearted  or  not,  I 
believed  that  I  loved  this  man,  and  he  sailed  away 
satisfied  that  I  would  be  true  to  him." 

"  He  was  a  mariner?  " 


256       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

"  He  is  a  master-mariner,  and  his  ship  is  a  fine 
one.  He  sailed  for  the  China  Seas,  and  'twas 
agreed  that  after  his  long  voyage  we  were  to  be 
married.  That  was,  I  say,  a  year  ago,  and  I  was 
true  to  him  until " 

She  faltered,  she  gave  him  a  look  that  he  could  not 
understand,  and  then  all  at  once  she  flung  herself 
down  on  the  short  coarse  herbage  of  the  cliff,  and 
began  to  weep  with  her  hands  over  her  face. 

He  strove  to  soothe  her  and  comfort  her,  saying 
she  had  done  naught  that  was  wrong — giving  her 
assurance  that  a  way  out  of  her  trouble  would 
surely  be  found  if  she  told  him  all. 

"  What  am  I  to  do?  "  she  cried,  looking  piteously 
up  to  him,  with  shining  eyes.  "  What  am  I  to  do? 
I  got  a  letter  from  him  only  on  Friday  last,  telling 
me  that  he  had  had  a  prosperous  voyage  and  had 
just  brought  his  ship  safe  to  Bristol,  and  that  he 
meant  to  come  to  me  without  delay.  Oh,  sir,  'twas 
only  when  I  had  that  letter  I  found  that  I  no 
longer  loved  him  as  I  did  a  year  ago." 

"  Is  there  another  man  who  has  come  between 
you,  my  child?"  he  asked  gravely. 

"  Heaven  help  me !  there  is  another,"  she  faltered. 

"  And  does  he  know  that  you  are  bound  by  a 
promise  to  someone  else?  If  so,  believe  me  he  is  a 
dishonourable  man,  and  you  must  dismiss  him 
from  your  thought,"  said  he. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  He  is  an  honourable  man ;  he  has  never  said  a 
word  of  love  to  me.  He  knows  nothing  of  my  love 
for  him.  He  at  least  is  innocent." 

"  If  he  be  indeed  a  true  man  he  would,  I  know, 
give  you  counsel  which  I  now  offer  to  you ;  even  if 
he  suspected — and  I  cannot  but  think  that  if  he 
sees  you  and  converses  with  you,  no  matter  how 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       257 

seldom,  he  will  suspect — the  sad  truth — he  will 
leave  your  side  and  so  give  you  an  opportunity  of 
forgetting  him,  and  all  may  be  well." 

"  Ah,  sir,  think  you  that  'tis  so  easy  to  for- 
get? " 

"  Have  you  not  just  given  me  an  instance  of  it, 
Nelly?  But  no ;  I  will  not  think  that  you  have  for- 
gotten the  one  to  whom  you  gave  your  promise.  I 
like  rather  to  believe  that  that  affection  remains  un- 
changed in  your  heart,  although  it  be  for  a  while 
obscured.  You  remember  how  we  lost  our  way  on 
the  morning  of  yesterday?  We  saw  not  the  shore; 
'twas  wreathed  in  mist;  but  the  solid  shore  was  here 
all  the  same,  and  in  another  hour  a  break  dispersed 
the  mist  which  up  till  then  had  been  much  more 
real  to  us  than  the  shore;  the  mist  once  gone,  we 
saw  the  substance  where  we  had  seen  the  shadow. 
Ah,  dear  child,  how  often  is  not  the  shadow  of  a 
love  taken  for  the  true — the  abiding  love  itself. 
Now  dry  your  tears  and  tell  me  when  you  expect 
your  true  lover  to  come  to  you." 

"  He  may  arrive  at  any  time.  He  will  come  by 
the  first  vessel  that  leaves  Bristol  river.  He  must 
have  left  already.  Oh,  that  sail  out  there  may  be 
carrying  him  hither — that  sail " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  and  made  a  shade  of  one 
hand  over  her  eyes  while  she  gazed  seaward.  After 
a  few  moments  of  gazing  she  sprang  to  her  feeta 
crying : 

"  The  boats — you  see  them  out  there?  What  has 
happened  that  they  are  flying  for  the  shore?  They 
should  not  be  returning  until  the  night." 

He  looked  out  across  the  waters  and  saw  the 
whole  fleet  of  fishing  smacks  making  for  the  shore 
with  every  sail  spread. 

"  Perhaps  the  boats  have  been  unusually  success- 


ful  and  thus  have  no  need  to  tarry  on  the  fishing 
ground,"  he  suggested. 

She  remained  with  her  eyes  upon  them  for  a 
long  time.  A  look  of  bewilderment  was  upon  her 
face  while  she  cried: 

"  Oh,  everything  is  topsy-turvy  in  these  days ! 
Never  have  I  known  all  the  boats  to  make  for  the 
shore  in  such  fashion,  unless  a  great  storm  was  to 
windward,  and  yet  now " 

She  caught  him  by  the  arm  suddenly  after  she  had 
remained  peering  out  to  the  southern  horizon  with 
an  arched  hand  over  her  eyes. 

"  Look  there — there !  "  she  said  in  a  whisper, 
pointing  seaward.  "  Tell  me  what  you  see  there. 
I  misdoubt  my  own  eyes.  Is  there  a  line  of  white 
just  under  the  sky?  " 

He  followed  the  direction  of  her  finger.  For 
some  moments  he  failed  to  see  anything  out  of  the 
common;  the  sea  horizon  was  somewhat  blurred — 
that  was  all.  But  suddenly  there  came  a  gleam  as 
of  the  sun  quivering  upon  a  thin  sword  blade  of 
white  steel  out  there — it  quivered  as  might  a  feather 
in  the  wind. 

"  'Tis  a  white  wave,"  he  said.  "  See,  it  has  al- 
ready widened.  A  great  wave  rolling  shoreward." 

"  List,  list,"  she  whispered. 

He  put  his  hand  behind  his  ear.  There  came 
through  the  air  the  hollow  boom  of  distant  thunder, 
or  was  it  the  breaking  of  a  heavy  sea  upon  a  rocky 
coast?  The  sound  of  many  waters  came  fitfully 
landward,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  fierce  gust  of 
wind  rushed  over  the  water — they  marked  its  foot- 
steps— it  was  stamping  with  the  hoofs  of  a  war- 
horse  on  the  surface  of  the  deep  as  it  charged  down 
upon  the  coast. 

Before  the  two  persons  on  the  cliff  felt  it  on  their 


faces,  bending  their  bodies  against  its  force,  a  wisp 
of  mist  had  corne  over  the  sun.  Far  away  there 
was  a  black  cloud — small,  but  it  looked  to  be  dense 
as  a  cannon  ball.  She  pointed  it  out,  and  these 
were  her  words : 

"  A  cannon  ball ! — a  cannon  ball !  " 

The  gust  of  wind  had  passed ;  they  could  hear  the 
trees  of  the  park  complaining  at  first  and  then  roar- 
ing, with  the  creaking  of  branches  as  it  clove  its 
way  through  them.  Flocks  of  sea  birds  filled  the 
air — all  were  flying  inland.  Their  fitful  cries  came 
in  all  notes,  from  the  plaintive  whistle  of  the  cur- 
lew and  the  hoarse  shriek  of  the  gull  to  the  bass 
boom  of  a  bittern. 

Then  the  cannon  ball  cloud  seemed  to  break  into 
pieces  in  a  flame  of  blue  fire,  more  dazzling  than 
any  lightning  that  ever  flashed  from  heaven  to 
earth,  and  at  the  same  instant  the  sun  was  blotted 
out,  though  no  cloud  had  been  seen  approaching  it; 
the  pall  seemed  to  have  dropped  over  the  disc,  not 
to  have  crept  up  to  it. 

"  A  storm  is  on  us,"  he  said.  "  Whither  can  we 
fly  for  shelter?  " 

"  The  stones  of  Red  Tor,"  she  replied ;  "  that  is 
the  nearest  place.  There  is  plenty  of  shelter  among 
the  stones." 

"  Come,"  he  cried,  "  there  is  no  moment  to  be  lost. 
Never  have  I  known  a  storm  fall  so  quickly." 

She  was  tarrying  on  the  cliff  brow  watching  the 
progress  of  the  fishing  boats. 

"  They  will  be  in  safety  before  disaster  can  over- 
take them,"  she  said. 

Then  she  turned  to  hasten  inland  with  him ;  but  a 
sound  that  seemed  to  wedge  its  way,  so  to  speak, 
through  the  long  low  boom,  with  scarcely  a  quiver 
in  it,  of  the  distant  thunder,  made  her  look  round. 


260       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

She  cried  out,  her  finger  pointing  to  a  white  splash" 
under  the  very  blackness  of  the  cloud  that  now 
covered  half  the  hollow  of  the  sky  dome  with  lead. 

"  Never  have  I  seen  the  like  save  only  once,  while 
the  great  gale  was  upon  us  returning  from 
Georgia,"  said  he.  "  'Tis  a  waterspout." 

It  was  a  small  spiral  that  came  whirling  along 
the  surface  of  the  water  whence  it  had  sprung,  and 
it  made  a  loud  hissing  sound,  with  the  swish  of 
broken  water  in  it.  It  varied  in  height  from  three 
feet  to  twenty,  until  it  had  become  a  thick  pillar  of 
molten  glass,  with  branching  capitals  that  broke 
into  flakes  of  sea-foam  spinning  into  the  drift.  Its 
path  through  the  sea  was  like  the  scythe-sweep  of  a 
hurricane  on  the  shore.  Its  wake  was  churned  up 
like  white  curd,  and  great  waves  fled  from  beneath 
its  feet. 

Wesley  and  his  companion  stood  in  astonishment, 
watching  that  wonder.  Its  course  was  not  directly 
for  the  cliff  where  they  were  standing ;  but  they  saw 
that  if  it  reached  the  shore  it  would  do  so  a  hun- 
dred yards  or  thereabouts  to  the  westward. 

They  were  not  wrong.  It  reached  the  shore  not 
farther  away  from  them.  It  struck  the  sand  where 
the  sun  had  dried  it,  and  in  a  moment  it  had  scooped 
out  a  hollow  eight  or  ten  feet  deep ;  then  it  whirled 
on  to  the"  shingle.  They  heard  the  noise  as  of  the 
relapse  of  a  great  wave  among  the  pebbles,  sweep- 
ing them  down  beneath  the  scoop  of  its  talons ;  only 
now  it  seemed  as  if  the  prow  of  a  frigate  had  dashed 
into  the  ridge  of  pebbles  and  was  pounding  its  way 
through  them.  It  was  a  moving  pillar  of  stones 
that  struck  furiously  against  the  stones  of  the  cliff 
— an  avalanche  in  the  air  that  thundered  against 
the  brow,  breaking  away  a  ton  of  rock,  and  turning 
it  into  an  avalanche  that  slid  down  to  the  enormous 


gap  made  in  the  shingle.  At  the  same  instant  there 
was  the  roar  of  a  cataract  as  the  whirling  flood  of 
the  waterspout  broke  high  in  the  air  and  dropped 
upon  the  land.  It  was  as  if  a  lake  had  fallen  from 
the  skies  in  a  solid  mass,  carrying  everything  be- 
fore it. 

It  was  the  girl  who  had  grasped  Wesley  by  the 
arm,  forcing  him  to  rush  with  her  to  the  higher 
ground.  Together  they  ran;  but  before  they 
reached  it  they  were  wading  and  slipping  and  surg- 
ing through  a  torrent  that  overflowed  the  cliff,  and 
poured  in  the  wave  of  a  waterfall  over  the  brink  and 
thundered  upon  the  rocks  beneath. 

They  only  paused  to  take  breath  when  they 
reached  the  highest  ledge  of  the  irregular  ground 
beyond  the  cliff  pathway.  There  was  a  tangle  of 
lightning  in  the  air — it  fell  from  a  cloud  that  had 
black  flowing  fringes,  like  a  horse's  tail  trailing  be- 
hind it,  and  it  was  approaching  the  shore.  They 
fled  for  the  rocks  of  the  Red  Tor. 

If  he  had  been  alone  he  never  would  have  reached 
the  place.  The  air  was  black  with  rain,  and  he  and 
his  companion  seemed  to  be  rushing  through  a  cloud 
that  had  the  density  of  velvet.  It  was  a  blind 
flight;  but  this  girl  of  the  coast  needed  not  the 
lightning  torch  that  flared  on  every  side  of  them  to 
guide  her.  She  held  his  arm,  and  he  suffered  him- 
self to  be  led  by  her.  She  even  knew  where  the 
sheltering  rocks  were  to  be  found ;  they  had  not  to 
search  for  them.  At  the  back  of  the  slight  eminence 
that  had  formed  his  pulpit,  half  a  dozen  basalt 
boulders  of  unequal  size  lay  tumbled  together.  Two 
of  them  were  on  end  and  three  others  lay  over  them, 
the  remaining  one  lying  diagonally  across  the 
arched  entrance  to  what  had  the  appearance  of  the 
ruin  of  a  doorway  four  feet  high.  The  high  coarse 


262       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

herbage  of  the  place,  with  here  and  there  a  bramble 
branch,  was  thick  at  this  place,  and  if  the  girl  and 
the  companions  of  her  childhood  had  not  been  ac- 
customed to  play  their  games  here,  calling  the 
hollow  between  the  stones  their  cave  sometimes, 
their  palace  when  it  suited  them,  it  would  have 
escaped  notice. 

She  bent  her  head  and  crept  under  the  stones  of 
the  roof,  and  he  followed  her.  They  had  a  depth  of 
scarcely  three  feet  behind  them,  for  the  bank  of  the 
mound  against  which  the  stones  lay  sloped  natu- 
rally outward,  and  the  height  was  not  more  than 
four  feet ;  but  it  was  a  shelter,  although  they  had  to 
kneel  upon  its  hard  floor.  It  was  a  shelter,  and 
they  had  need  of  one  just  then.  The  cloud  had 
burst  over  them  just  as  they  reached  their  hospita- 
ble cleft  in  the  rocks,  and  the  seventh  plague  of 
Egypt  had  fallen  upon  the  rude  amphitheatre  of  the 
Red  Tor — it  was  hail  mingled  with  fire ;  and  when  a 
pause  came,  as  it  did  with  a  suddenness  that  was 
more  appalling  than  the  violence  of  the  storm,  the 
ninth  plague  was  upon  them.  The  darkness  might 
have  been  felt.  They  could  see  nothing  outside. 
They  knew  that  only  ten  yards  away  there  was  an- 
other pile  of  rocks  with  a  few  stunted  trees  spring- 
ing from  their  crevices ;  but  they  could  not  even  see 
this  landmark.  Farther  away,  on  a  small  plateau, 
was  the  celebrated  rocking-stone  of  Red  Tor ;  but  it 
seemed  to  have  been  blotted  out.  They  could  hear 
the  sound  of  the  wind  shrieking  over  the  land,  mak- 
ing many  strange  whistlings  and  meanings  through 
the  hollows  among  the  stones — they  could  hear  the 
sound  of  thousands  of  runnels  down  the  banks,  but 
they  could  see  nothing. 

In  that  awful  black  pause  Wesley  began  to  repeat 
the  words  of  the  eighteenth  Psalm : 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   263 

"  The  Lord  is  my  rock,  and  my  fortress,  and  my 
deliverer;  my  God,  my  strength,  in  whom  I  will 
trust;  my  buckler,  and  my  high  tower.  .  .  . 

"  In  my  distress  I  called  upon  the  Lord,  and  cried 
unto  my  God :  he  heard  my  voice  out  of  his  temple, 
and  my  cry  before  him,  even  into  his  ears. 

"  Then  the  earth  shook  and  trembled ;  the  founda- 
tions also  of  the  hills  moved  and  were  shaken,  be- 
cause he  was  wroth. 

"  There  went  up  a  smoke  out  of  his  nostrils,  and 
fire  out  of  his  mouth  devoured:  coals  were  kindled 
by  it. 

"  He  bowed  the  heavens  also,  and  came  down : 
and  darkness  was  under  his  feet. 

"  And  he  rode  upon  a  cherub,  and  did  fly :  yea,  he 
did  fly  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind. 

"  He  made  darkness  his  secret  place ;  his  pavilion 
round  about  him  were  dark  waters  and  thick  clouds 
of  the  skies. 

"  At  the  brightness  that  was  before  him  his  thick 
clouds  passed,  hail  stones  and  coals  of  fire. 

"  The  Lord  also  thundered  in  the  heavens,  and  the 
Highest  gave  his  voice;  hail  stones  and  coals  of 
fire. 

"  Yea,  he  sent  out  his  arrows,  and  scattered  them ; 
and  he  shot  out  lightnings,  and  discomfited  them. 

"  Then  the  channels  of  waters  were  seen,  and  the 
foundations  of  the  world  were  discovered  at  thy  re- 
buke, O  Lord,  at  the  blast  of  the  breath  of  thy 
nostrils.  .  .  . 

"  For  thou  wilt  light  my  candle :  the  Lord  my 
God  will  enlighten  my  darkness." 

Before  he  had  come  to  the  last  stanza  the  battle 
of  the  elements  had  followed  the  brief  truce. 

The  first  flash  was  blinding,  but  before  they  had 
instinctively  put  their  hands  up  to  their  eyes  they 


264       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

had  seen  every  twig  of  the  skeleton  trees  outlined 
against  the  background  of  fire — they  had  seen  the 
black  bulk  of  the  rocking-stone,  and  for  the  first 
time  they  noticed  that  it  had  the  semblance  of  a 
huge  hungry  beast  crouching  for  a  leap.  The 
thunder  that  followed  seemed  to  set  the  world  shak- 
ing with  the  sway  of  the  rocking-stone  when  some- 
one had  put  it  in  motion. 

"  Is  it  true? — is  it,  indeed,  true?  "  cried  the  girl 
between  the  peals  of  thunder.  He  felt  her  hands 
tighten  upon  his  arm. 

"  The  Rock  of  Ages  is  true,"  he  said ;  but  the 
second  peal  swallowed  up  his  words. 

He  heard  her  voice  when  the  next  flash  made  a 
cleft  in  the  cloud : 

"  Is  it  true — the  prophecy — has  it  come?  " 

Then  he  knew  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"  Do  you  fear  it?  "  he  cried,  and  he  turned  his 
face  toward  her.  Another  flaring  sword  made  its 
stroke  from  the  heavens,  and  by  its  blaze  he  saw 
that  she  was  smiling  while  she  shook  her  head. 

He  knew  that  she  had  no  fear.  Across  his  own 
mind  there  had  flashed  the  same  thought  that  had 
come  to  her,  taking  the  form  of  the  question  which 
she  had  put  to  him :  "  Is  the  prophecy  about  to  be 
realised?  " 

He  felt  perfectly  tranquil  in  the  midst  of  the 
storm ;  and  the  reflection  that  the  tranquillity  of  the 
girl  was  due  to  his  influence  was  sweet  to  him.  The 
roar  of  the  thunder  had  become  almost  continuous. 
They  seemed  to  be  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  livid 
flame.  The  intervals  of  darkness  were  less  numer- 
ous than  those  during  which  the  whole  sky  be- 
came illuminated.  The  floods  came  rather  more  fit- 
fully. For  a  few  minutes  at  a  time  it  seemed  as  if 
an  ocean  had  been  displaced,  as  if  an  ocean  had 


been  suspended  above  them,  and  then  suddenly 
dropped  with  the  crash  of  a  waterfall.  Immedi- 
ately afterward  there  would  be  a  complete  cessa- 
tion of  rain  and  the  crash  of  waters.  The  thunder 
sounded  very  lonely. 

More  than  once  there  were  intervals  of  sudden 
clearness  in  the  air.  For  minutes  at  a  time  they 
could  see,  even  after  the  blinding  flash  of  a  javelin 
of  lightning,  every  object  outside  their  sheltering 
place ;  then  suddenly  all  would  be  blotted  out.  At 
such  moments  it  seemed  as  if  the  blackness  above 
them  was  solid — a  vast  mountain  of  unhewn  marble 
falling  down  upon  them.  They  had  the  impression 
of  feeling  the  awful  weight  of  its  mass  beginning  to 
crush  them.  They  became  breathless — gasping. 

Once  a  flash  fell  close  to  them,  and  there  was  a 
noise  of  splintering  wood  and  the  hiss  of  water 
into  which  a  red-hot  bar  has  been  dipped.  A  sec- 
ond afterward  a  blazing  brand  was  flung  in  front 
of  them,  and  the  smoke  hung  dense  in  the  heavy  air. 
By  the  light  that  was  cast  around  they  saw  that  one 
of  the  trees  growing  on  the  little  mound  close  to 
them  had  been  struck  and  hurled  where  it  lay. 

It  blazed  high  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  the 
girl  cried  out.  She  had  got  upon  her  feet,  though 
forced  to  keep  her  head  bent.  He  thought  that  she 
was  pointing  out  to  him  the  thing  that  had  hap- 
pened; but  in  a  moment  he  perceived  that  her  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  some  object  beyond  the  mound  that 
had  been  struck.  It  was,  however,  only  when  the 
next  flash  came  that  he  saw  out  there  the  figure  of 
a  man — he  recognised  him :  it  was  Pritchard. 

He  stood  bareheaded  with  his  sackcloth  garment 
clinging  to  him — the  lightning  was  reflected  from 
it  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  steel,  for  the  water  was 
streaming  down  its  folds — on  the  summit  of  the 


rocks  that  were  piled  together  on  the  slope  of  the 
bank  not  twenty  yards  away.  He  was  gesticulat- 
ing, but  his  bare  arms  were  above  his  head. 

So  much  Wesley  saw  in  the  single  glimpse  that 
was  allowed  to  him.  After  the  flash  the  darkness 
swallowed  him  up  once  more;  but  even  before  the 
next  flash  came  he  was  visible,  though  faintly,  by 
the  light  of  the  blazing  tree,  for  the  trunk  had  not 
fallen  directly  between  where  he  was  standing  and 
the  shelter.  The  red  light  flickered  over  his  body, 
and  showed  his  attitude — his  hands  were  now 
clasped  over  his  head,  and  he  was  facing  the  quarter 
whence  the  storm  was  coming.  Then  there  fell 
another  torrent  of  rain  and  hail,  and  he  was  hidden 
by  that  watery  sheet  for  some  minutes.  Suddenly, 
as  before,  the  rain  ceased,  and  there  was  another 
interval  of  clearness,  that  showed  him  standing 
with  his  arms  extended.  And  when  the  thunder 
peal  rolled  away  his  voice  was  heard  calling  out 
passionately,  though  his  words  were  indistinct ;  they 
were  smothered  in  the  noise  of  the  thousand  tor- 
rents of  the  Tor. 

In  a  moment  Wesley  had  pushed  himself  through 
the  opening  of  his  shelter  and  hurried  to  his  side. 
He  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Come ! "  he  cried.  "  Have  you  not  read,  '  Thou 
shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God '?  Man!  is  this 
a  time  to  seek  destruction?  " 

The  man  turned  upon  him. 

"  It  has  come — it  has  come — the  great  and  ter- 
rible Day,  and  I  am  its  prophet !  "  he  shouted.  "  You 
did  not  believe  me.  I  was  mocked  more  than  any 
prophet;  but  it  has  come.  All  has  been  fulfilled, 
except  calling  to  the  rocks  and  the  mountains.  No 
voice  has  called  to  them  but  mine.  I  have  called 
to  the  rocks  to  cover  me  and  the  hills  to  hide,  but 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PEEVAILED      26T 

none  else.  But  you  will  join  me — you  will  add  your 
voice  to  mine  that  the  Scriptures  may  be  fulfilled, 
John  Wesley.  Call  upon  them  as  I  do.  Fall  upon 
us,  O  rocks — cover  us,  O  hills !  " 

He  stretched  out  his  arms  once  more  and  bowed 
his  head  on  every  side,  shouting  out  his  words, 
amid  the  blaze  of  the  lightning  and  the  rattle  of  the 
thunder. 

"  Wretch ! "  cried  Wesley,  but  then  he  checked 
himself.  He  had  now  no  doubt  that  the  man  had 
become  a  maniac.  "  My  poor  friend — brother — let 
me  be  your  guide  at  this  time.  Let  us  talk  over 
the  matter  together.  There  is  a  place  of  safety  at 
hand." 

"  What,  you,  John  Wesley,  talk  of  safety ;  know 
you  not  in  this  dread  hour  that  the  Scripture  must 
be  fulfilled?  "  shouted  the  man.  "What  will  your 
judgment  be  who  would  make  the  Holy  Writ  to  be 
a  vain  thing?  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  it  will  be  a  lie 
if  you  do  not  join  with  me  in  calling  upon  the  rocks 
to  fall  upon  us?  This  is  the  place  that  was 
prophesied  of — these  are  the  very  rocks — yonder 
are  the  very  hills.  They  will  not  move — they  must 
be  stubborn  until  another  voice  be  joined  with  mine. 
O  rocks,  fall— fall— fall!" 

Wesley  grasped  one  of  the  frantic  arms  that  were 
outstretched.  He  could  not  temporise  with  the 
wretch  again. 

"  You  shall  not  dare ! "  he  cried.  "  I  may  not 
stand  by  and  hear  such  a  mockery." 

The  man  wrenched  his  arm  free. 

"  The  mockery  is  yours,  sir,"  he  shouted.  "  You 
will  not  save  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures  when  it  is 
left  for  you  to  do  so.  Think  of  your  own  condemna- 
tion, man — think  that  there  are  only  two  of  us  here, 
and  if  we  remain  silent  we  are  guilty  of  blasphemy, 


for  we  are  preventing  the  fulfilment  of  this 
prophecy." 

A  discharge  of  lightning  that  had  the  semblance 
of  a  pair  of  fiery  fetters  went  from  hill  to  hill,  and 
when  Wesley  recovered  the  use  of  his  eyes  he  saw 
that  the  man  wras  pointing  to  the  slight  eminence  on 
which  the  rocking-stone  was  poised. 

"  It  has  been  shown  to  me — thank  God  that  it  has 
been  shown  to  me  before  'tis  too  late,"  he  cried. 
"  If  you,  John  Wesley,  refuse  to  aid  me,  power  shall 
be  given  me  alone  to  fulfil  the  Scriptures.  The 
rocks  shall  obey  me.  I  am  the  chosen  vessel." 

A  torrent  of  rain  swept  between  them,  with  the 
sound  of  a  huge  wave  striking  upon  the  flat  face  of 
a  cliff.  Wesley  spread  out  his  arms.  One  of  them 
was  grasped  by  the  girl,  who  had  crept  to  his  side, 
and  he  felt  himself  guided  back  to  the  shelter. 

He  lay  back  upon  the  sloping  rock  thoroughly 
exhausted,  and  closed  his  eyes. 

A  minute  had  passed  before  he  opened  them 
again,  hearing  the  girl  cry  out. 

Another  of  the  comparatively  clear  intervals 
had  come,  and  it  was  sufficient  to  show  the  great 
rocking-stone  in  motion  and  the  figure  that  was 
swaying  it.  To  and  fro  it  went  on  its  heels'  keel, 
the  man  making  frantic  efforts  to  increase  the  depth 
to  which  it  rose  and  fell.  To  and  fro,  to  and  fro  it 
swayed,  and  every  fall  was  deeper  than  the  last, 
until  at  last  it  was  swinging  so  that  the  side  almost 
touched  the  rock  beyond.  The  man  thrust  his 
shoulder  beneath  the  shoulder  of  the  moving  mass 
of  stone,  pushing  it  back  every  time  it  bowed  toward 
Mm.  Never  before  had  it  swung  like  this.  At  last 
it  staggered  on  to  the  edge  of  the  cup  on  which  it 
was  poised — staggered,  but  recovered  itself  and 
slipped  into  its  place  again.  It  swung  back  and 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

jerked  out  of  the  cup  as  before.  One  more  swing, 
with  the  man  flinging  his  whole  weight  upon  it ;  for 
a  second  it  trembled  on  the  edge  of  the  hollow  ful- 
crum, and  then — it  failed  to  return.  It  toppled 
slowly  over  upon  the  granite  rock.  For  a  moment 
its  descent  was  retarded  by  the  man,  who  was 
crushed  like  a  walnut  beneath  it,  then  with  a  crash 
of  broken  crags  it  fell  over  the  brink  of  the  height 
to  the  ground,  fifteen  feet  beneath. 

Wesley  left  the  girl  with  her  hands  pressed 
against  her  eyes  and  hurried  to  the  fallen  mass.  A 
man's  hand  projected  from  beneath  it — nothing 
more.  But  for  this  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  say  that  a  body  was  beneath  it.  The  mighty 
stone  did  not  even  lie  flat  on  the  ground;  it  had 
made  a  hollow  for  itself  in  the  soft  earth.  It  had 
buried  itself  to  the  depth  of  a  foot,  and  beneath, 
its  base  Pritchard  lay  buried. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

NOT  until  the  afternoon  had  the  storm  moderated 
•sufficiently  to  allow  of  Wesley  and  his  companion 
returning  to  Porthawn.  For  a  full  hour  after  the 
fall  of  the  rocking-stone  they  remained  together  in 
the  shelter.  They  were  both  overcome  by  the  horror 
of  what  they  had  witnessed.  Happily  the  charred 
crown  of  branches  which  remained  on  the  tree  that 
had  been  struck  down,  after  the  rain  had  extin- 
guished the  blaze,  was  enough  to  hide  the  fallen 
stone,  and  that  ghastly  white  thing  that  lay  thrust 
out  from  beneath  it  like  a  splash,  of  lichen  frayed 
from  the  crag.  But  for  another  hour  the  tempest 
continued,  only  with  brief  intervals,  when  a  dense 
and  smoky  greyness  took  the  place  of  the  blackness. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  storm  could  not  escape  from 
the  boundary  of  the  natural  amphitheatre  in  the 
centre  of  which  was  the  mound  which  Wesley  had 
used  as  his  pulpit ;  and  to  that  man  whose  imagina- 
tion was  never  a  moment  inactive,  the  whole  scene 
suggested  a  picture  which  he  had  once  seen  of  the 
struggle  of  a  thousand  demons  of  the  Pit,  around  a 
sanctified  place,  for  the  souls  of  those  who  were  safe 
within  the  enclosure.  There  were  the  swirling 
black  clouds  every  one  of  which  let  loose  a  fiery 
flying  bolt,  while  the  winds  yelled  horribly  as  any 
fiends  that  might  be  struggling  with  obscene  tooth 
and  claw,  to  crush  the  souls  that  were  within  the 
sacred  circle.  The  picture  had,  he  knew,  been  an 
allegory;  he  wondered  if  it  were  not  possible  that 
certain  scenes  in  Nature  might  be  equally  allegori- 

270 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       271 

•cal.  He  hoped  that  he  was  not  offending  when  he 
thought  of  this  citadel  of  his  faith — this  pulpit  from 
which  he  had  first  preached  in  Cornwall — being 
assailed  by  the  emissaries  of  the  Arch-enemy,  and 
yet  remaining  unmoved  as  a  tower  built  to  with- 
stand every  assault  of  the  foe. 

The  whole  scene  assumed  in  his  imagination  a 
series  of  fierce  assaults,  in  all  of  which  the  enemy 
was  worsted  and  sent  flying  over  the  plain;  he 
could  hear  the  shrieks  of  the  disappointed  fiends — 
the  long  wail  of  the  wounded  that  followed  every 
impulse ;  and  then,  after  a  brief  interval,  there  came 
the  renewed  assault — the  circling  tumult  seeking 
for  a  vulnerable  point  of  entrance.  But  there  it 
stood,  that  pulpit  from  whose  height  he  had 
preached  the  Gospel  to  the  thousands  who  had  come 
to  hear  him,  and  had  gone  forth  to  join  the  forces 
that  are  evermore  at  conflict  with  the  powers  of 
evil  in  the  world.  There  stood  his  pulpit  unmoved 
in  the  midst  of  the  tumult.  He  accepted  the  sym- 
bolism, and  he  was  lifted  up  by  the  hope  that  his 
work  sent  forth  from  this  place  would  live  un- 
touched by  the  many  conflicts  of  time. 

He  was  able  to  speak  encouraging  words  to  his 
companion  every  time  the  thunder  passed  away; 
and  he  was  more  than  ever  conscious  of  the  happi- 
ness of  having  her  near  to  him  at  this  time.  He 
knew  that  he  had  loved  her  truly;  for  his  love  had 
been  true  enough  and  strong  enough  to  compel  him 
to  give  her  the  advice  that  precluded  his  ever  being 
able  to  tell  her  of  his  own  feeling  for  her.  The  joy 
of  her  gracious  companionship  was  not  for  him; 
but  he  would  do  all  that  in  him  lay  to  assure  her 
happiness. 

He  knew  that  he  wras  able  to  soothe  her  now  that 
she  had  received  a  shock  that  would  have  been  too 


272       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

much  for  most  women.  The  horror  of  the  mode  of 
the  man's  death,  quite  apart  from  the  terror  of  the 
tempest,  was  enough  to  prostrate  any  ordinary  man 
or  woman.  It  was  very  sweet  to  him  to  feel  her 
cling  to  his  arm  when  they  crawled  back  to  their 
shelter.  He  laid  his  hand  tenderly  upon  the  hand 
that  clasped  him,  and  he  refrained  from  saying  a 
word  to  her  at  that  moment.  When  the  storm  had 
moderated  in  some  measure  he  spoke  to  her;  and 
he  was  too  wise  to  make  any  attempt  to  turn  her 
thoughts  from  the  tragedy  which,  he  knew,  could 
not  possibly  fade  from  her  mind  even  with  the  lapse 
of  years. 

"  He  predicted  truly  so  far  as  he  himself  was  con- 
cerned," he  said  gravely.    "  The  end  came  for  him 
as  he  said.     Poor  wretch !     He  may  have  possessed 
all  his  life  a  curious  sense  beyond  that  allowed  to 
others — an  instinct — it  may  not  have  been  finer 
than  the  instinct  of  a  bird.    I  have  read  that  one  of 
the  desert  birds  will  fly  an  hundred  miles  to  where 
a  camel  has  fallen  by  the  way.     The  camel  itself 
has,  we  are  told,  an  instinct  that  guides  it  to  water. 
But  I  do  not  say  that  he  was  not  an  agent  of  evil. 
There  is  evidence  to  prove  that  sorcery  can  give  the 
power  to  predict  what  seems  to  be  the  truth,  but 
it  is  only  a  juggling  of  the  actual  truth.    The  man- 
ner of  that  poor  wretch's  death  makes  one  feel  sus- 
picious.   He  predicted  the  end  of  the  world;  well, 
the  world  came  to  an  end,  so  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned.   You  perceive  the  jugglery?    But  his  was 
a  weak  mind.     He  may  have  been  lured  on  to  his 
own  destruction.     However  this  may  be,  his  end 
was  a  terrible  one.    I  grieve  that  it  was  left  for  us 
to  witness  it." 
She  shook  her  head. 
"  I  shall  never  forget  to-day,"  she  said.     "  I  had 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   273 

a  feeling  more  than  once  when  the  lightning  was 
brighter  than  common,  and  the  world  seemed  to 
shake  under  the  rattle  of  the  thunderclap,  that  the 
next  moment  would  be  the  last." 

"  There  was  no  terror  on  your  face — I  saw  it 
once  under  the  fiercest  flash,"  said  he. 

"  At  first — ah,  I  scarce  know  how  I  felt,"  said 
she.  "  But  when  I  heard  your  words  saying, '  Eock 
of  Ages,'  my  fear  seemed  to  vanish." 

"  The  lines  ring  with  the  true  confidence  that  only 
the  true  Rock  of  Ages  can  inspire,"  said  he. 

And  thus  he  gradually  led  her  thoughts  away 
from  the  ghastly  thing  that  she  had  seen,  though 
he  had  begun  talking  to  her  about  it.  At  this  time 
the  storm,  which  had  been  hurtling  around  the  brim 
of  the  huge  basin  of  the  valley,  had  succeeded  in  its 
Titanic  efforts  to  free  itself  from  whatever  influence 
it  was  held  it  fettered  within  the  circle ;  and  though 
the  rain  continued,  there  was  only  an  occasional 
roll  of  thunder.  The  roar  that  now  filled  the  valley 
was  that  of  the  sea.  It  came  to  them  after  the 
storm  like  the  voice  of  an  old  friend  shouting  to 
them  to  be  of  good  cheer. 

And  all  that  the  preacher  said  to  her  was  founded 
upon  the  text  that  the  sea  shouted  for  them  to 
hear.  For  a  time  at  least  the  horror  that  she  had 
looked  upon  passed  out  of  her  mind ;  and  when  he 
pointed  out  to  her  that  the  rain  had  almost  ceased, 
she  suffered  herself  to  be  led  away  from  their  place 
of  shelter  by  the  further  side  of  the  central  mound, 
without  straining  her  eyes  to  see  where  the  rock- 
ing-stone  lay;  she  had  not  even  a  chance  of  noting 
the  strangeness  brought  about  by  the  disappear- 
ance of  a  landmark  that  she  had  seen  since  she  was 
a  child.  But  as  they  walked  rapidly  toward  the 
little  port,  a  cold  fear  took  hold  of  her. 


274       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

"  Can  a  single  cottage  remain  after  such  a  storm 
— can  anyone  be  left  alive?  "  she  cried,  and  he  saw 
that  the  tears  were  on  her  face. 

"  Do  not  doubt  it,"  he  said.  "  To  doubt  it  were 
to  doubt  the  goodness  of  God.  Some  men  are  com- 
ing toward  us.  I  have  faith  that  they  bring  us  good 
news." 

Within  a  few  minutes  they  saw  that  it  was  Mr. 
Hartwell  and  two  of  his  men  who  had  come  in 
search  of  Wesley.  Before  they  met,  Nelly  had 
asked  how  the  port  had  fared — the  boats,  what  of 
the  boats? 

"All's  well,"  was  the  response,  and  her  hands 
clasped  themselves  in  joy  and  gratitude. 

Never  had  such  a  tempest  been  thrown  on  the 
coast,  Hartwell  said,  but  absolutely  no  damage  had 
been  done  to  building,  boat,  or  human  being.  Some 
trees  had  been  struck  by  the  lighting  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  park,  and  doubtless  others  had  suffered 
further  inland;  but  the  fishing  boats  having  had 
signs  of  the  approach  of  the  storm,  had  at  once 
made  for  the  shore,  and  happily  were  brought  to  the 
leeward  of  the  little  wharf  before  the  first  burst 
had  come. 

When  he  had  told  his  tale  he  enquired  if  either 
of  them  had  seen  anything  of  Pritchard. 

"  He  appeared  suddenly  wrhere  we  saw  him  yes- 
terday," he  continued,  "  and  his  cry  was  that  we 
should  join  him  in  calling  upon  the  rocks  to  fall 
on  us.  He  would  not  be  persuaded  to  take  shelter, 
and  he  was  seen  to  wander  into  what  seemed  to  be 
the  very  heart  of  the  storm." 

Wesley  shook  his  head,  and  told  his  story. 

The  man  whose  prophecy  of  the  end  of  the  world 
had  spread  within  certain  limits  a  terror  that  was 
recalled  by  many  firesides,  and  formed  a  landmark 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       275 

in  the  annals  of  two  generations,  was  the  only  one 
who  perished  in  the  great  thunderstorm,  which  un- 
doubtedly took  place  within  a  day  or  two  of  the 
date  assigned  by  him  to  see  the  destruction  of  the 
world. 

•  •  •  •  * 

John  Wesley  had  no  choice  left  him  in  the  matter. 
His  host  insisted  on  his  going  into  a  bed  that  had 
been  made  as  warm  as  his  copper  pan  of  charcoal 
could  make  it,  after  partaking  of  a  spiced  posset 
compounded  in  accordance  with  a  recipe  that  was 
guaranteed  to  prevent  the  catching  of  a  cold,  no 
matter  how  definitely  circumstances  conspired  in 
favour  of  a  cold. 

His  garments  had  become  sodden  with  rain  from 
the  waterspout  at  the  outset  of  the  storm,  and  he 
had  been  forced  to  sit  for  several  hours  in  the  same 
clothes.  He  could  not  hope  to  escape  a  cold  unless 
by  the  help  of  this  famous  posset,  the  housekeeper 
affirmed ;  and  she  was  amazed  to  find  him  absolutely 
docile  in  this  matter.  She  had  been  voluble  in  her 
entreaties ;  but  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she 
might  have  spared  herself  half  her  trouble ;  she  had 
taken  it  for  granted  that  she  was  talking  to  an  ordi- 
nary man,  who  would  scoff  at  the  virtues  of  her 
posset,  and  then  make  all  his  friends  miserable  by 
his  complaints  when  he  awoke  with  a  cold  on  him. 
Mr.  Wesley  was  the  only  sensible  man  she  had  ever 
met,  she  declared  to  her  master,  with  the  sinister 
expression  of  a  hope  that  his  example  of  docility 
would  not  be  neglected  by  others. 

He  went  to  bed,  and  after  listening  for  some 
hours  to  the  roaring  of  the  sea,  he  fell  asleep.  The 
evening  had  scarcely  come,  but  he  had  never  felt 
wearier  in  all  his  life. 

He  slept  for  eight  hours,  and  when  he  awoke  he 
knew  that  he  had  done  well  to  yield,  without  the 


276       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

need  for  persuasion,  to  the  advice  of  the  house- 
keeper. He  felt  refreshed  in  every  way;  and  after 
lying  awake  for  an  hour,  he  arose,  dressed  himself, 
and  left  the  house.  This  impulse  to  take  a  mid- 
night walk  was  by  no  means  unusual  with  him.  He 
had  frequently  found  himself  the  better  for  an  hour 
or  two  spent  in  the  darkness,  especially  beside  the 
sea.  Midnight  was  just  past.  If  he  were  to  remain 
in  the  air  for  some  time,  he  might,  he  thought,  be 
able  to  sleep  until  breakfast-time. 

The  night  was  cool,  without  being  cold,  and  there 
was  a  sweet  freshness  in  the  air  which  had  cer- 
tainly been  wanting  when  he  had  walked  along  the 
cliffs  in  the  afternoon.  The  thunderstorm  did  not 
seem  at  that  time  to  have  cleared  the  atmosphere. 
He  was  rather  surprised  to  find  that  there  was  such 
a  high  sea  rolling  at  this  time,  and  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  had  been  a  gale  while  he  was 
asleep.  Clouds  were  still  hiding  the  sky,  but  they 
held  no  rain. 

He  shunned  the  cliff  track,  going  in  the  opposite 
direction,  which  led  him  past  the  village,  and  on  to 
the  steep  sandy  bay  with  its  occasional  little  pe- 
ninsulas of  high  rocks,  the  surfaces  of  which  were 
not  covered  even  by  Spring  tides.  Very  quiet  the 
little  port  seemed  at  this  hour.  Not  a  light  was  in 
any  window — not  a  sound  came  from  any  of  the  cot- 
tages. He  stood  for  a  long  time  on  the  little  wharf 
looking  at  the  silent  row  of  cottages.  That  one 
which  had  the  rose-bush  trained  over  the  porch  was 
the  home  of  the  Polwheles,  he  knew,  and  he  re- 
mained with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  it.  It  seemed  as 
if  this  had  been  the  object  of  his  walk — to  stand 
thus  in  front  of  that  house,  as  any  youthful 
lover  might  stand  beneath  the  lattice  that  he 
loved. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       277 

He  had  his  thoughts  to  think,  and  he  found  that 
this  was  the  time  to  think  them.  They  were  all 
about  the  girl  who  slept  beyond  that  window.  He 
wondered  if  he  had  ever  loved  her  before  this  mo- 
ment. If  he  had  really  loved  her,  how  was  it  that 
he  had  never  before  been  led  to  this  place  to  watch 
the  house  where  she  lay  asleep?  Was  it  possible 
that  he  had  fancied  he  knew  her  before  he  had 
passed  those  hours  with  her  when  the  storm  was 
raging  around  them?  He  felt  that  without  this 
experience  he  could  not  possibly  have  known  what 
manner  of  girl  she  was. 

And  now  that  he  had  come  to  know  her  the 
knowledge  came  to  him  with  the  thought  that  she 
was  not  for  him. 

He  had  set  out  in  the  morning  feeling  that  per- 
haps he  had  been  too  hasty  in  coming  to  the  con- 
clusion that  because,  when  far  away  from  her  he 
had  been  thinking  a  great  deal  of  his  own  loneliness 
and  the  joy  that  her  companionship  would  bring 
to  him,  he  loved  her.  That  was  why  he  had  wished 
to  put  himself  to  the  test,  and  he  had  fancied  that 
he  was  doing  so  when  he  had  walked  in  the  opposite 
direction  to  that  in  which  the  village  lay  so  that 
he  might  avoid  the  chance  of  meeting  her. 

But  in  spite  of  his  elaborate  precautions — he 
actually  thought  that  it  had  shown  ingenuity  on 
his  part — he  had  met  her,  and  he  had  learned  with- 
out putting  the  question  to  her  that  she  was  not 
for  him.  He  recalled  what  his  feeling  had  been 
at  that  moment.  He  had  fancied  that  he  knew  all 
that  her  words  meant  to  him;  but  he  had  deceived 
himself;  it  was  only  now  that  he  knew  exactly  the 
measure  of  what  they  meant  to  him.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  he  had  known  nothing  of  the  girl  before 
he  had  passed  those  dark  hours  by  her  side. 


278       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

At  that  time  it  was  as  if  all  the  world  had  been 
blotted  out,  only  he  and  she  being  left  alone. 

This  feeling  he  now  knew  was  what  was  meant 
by  loving — this  feeling  that  there  was  nothing  left 
in  the  world — that  nothing  mattered  so  long  as  he 
and  she  were  together — that  death  itself  would  be 
welcome  if  only  it  did  not  sunder  them. 

And  he  had  gained  that  knowledge  only  to  know 
that  they  were  to  be  sundered. 

It  was  a  bitter  thought,  and  for  a  time,  as  he 
stood  there  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  cottage, 
he  felt  as  if  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  the  world 
had  come  to  an  end.  The  happiness  which  he  had 
seen  before  him  as  plainly  as  if  it  had  been  a 
painted  picture — &  picture  of  the  fireside  in  the 
home  that  he  hoped  for — had  been  blotted  out  from 
before  his  eyes,  and  in  its  stead  there  was  a  blank. 
It  did  not  matter  how  that  blank  might  be  filled 
in,  it  would  never  contain  the  picture  that  had 
been  torn  away  from  before  him  when  she  had  of 
her  own  free  will  told  him  the  story  of  her  love. 

He  felt  the  worst  that  any  man  can  feel,  for  the 
worst  comes  only  when  a  man  cries  out  to  himself : 

"  Too  late— too  late !  " 

He  was  tortured  by  that  perpetual  question  of 
"Why?  Why?  Why?" 

Why  had  he  not  come  to  Cornwall  the  previous 
year?  Why  had  he  not  seen  her  before  she  had 
gone  to  Bristol  and  given  her  promise  to  the  other 
man? 

But  this  was  only  in  the  floodtide  of  his  bitter- 
ness; after  a  space  it  subsided.  More  reasonable 
thoughts  came  to  him.  Who  was  he  that  he  should 
rail  against  what  had  been  ordered  by  that  Heaven 
in  whose  ordering  of  things  he  had  often  expressed 
his  perfect  faith?  What  would  he  say  of  any  man 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PKEVAILED   279 

who  should  have  such  rebellious  thoughts?  Could 
this  be  the  true  love — this  that  made  him  rebel 
against  the  decree  of  an  all-wise  Providence?  If 
it  was  true  it  would  cause  him  to  think  not  of  his 
own  happiness,  but  of  hers. 

Had  he  been  thinking  all  the  time  of  his  own 
happiness?  he  asked  himself.  Had  she  been  denied 
to  him  on  this  account?  He  feared  that  it  was  so. 
He  recalled  how  he  had  been  thinking  of  her,  and 
he  had  many  pangs  of  self-reproach  when  he  re- 
membered how  in  all  the  pictures  of  the  future  that 
his  imagination  had  drawn  he  was  the  central  fig- 
ure. He  felt  that  his  aim  had  been  an  ignoble  one. 
Selfishness  had  been  the  foundation  of  his  love, 
and  therefore  he  deserved  the  punishment  that  had 
fallen  upon  him. 

He  continued  his  walk  and  went  past  the  cot- 
tage on  which  his  eyes  had  lingered.  For  a  mile 
he  strolled,  lost  in  thought  along  the  sandy  bay, 
disturbing  the  sea  birds  that  were  wading  about 
the  shallow  pools  in  search  of  shell  fish.  The  tide 
was  on  the  ebb  and  he  walked  down  the  little  ridges 
of  wet  beach  until  he  found  himself  at  the  edge  of 
that  broad  grey  sea  that  sent  its  whispering  ripples 
to  his  feet.  He  had  always  liked  to  stand  thus  in 
winter  as  well  as  summer.  Within  an  hour  of 
dawn  the  sea  seemed  very  patient.  It  was  waiting 
for  what  was  to  come — for  the  uprising  of  the  sun 
to  turn  its  grey  into  gold. 

He  never  failed  to  learn  the  lesson  of  the  sea  in 
all  its  moods;  and  now  he  felt  strengthened  by 
looking  out  to  the  eastern  sky,  though  it  was  still 
devoid  of  light.  He  would  have  patience.  He 
would  wait  and  have  faith.  Light  was  coming  to 
the  world,  and  happy  was  the  one  to  whom  was 


280       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

given  the  mission  of  proclaiming  that  dawn — the 
coming  of  the  Light  of  the  World. 

Even  when  he  resumed  his  stroll  after  he  had 
looked  across  the  dun  waters  he  became  conscious 
of  a  change  in  the  eastern  sky.  The  clouds  that 
still  clung  to  that  quarter  were  taking  on  to  them- 
selves the  pallor  of  a  pearl,  and  the  sky  edge  of 
the  sea  was  lined  with  the  tender  glaze  that  ap- 
pears on  the  inner  surface  of  a  white  shell,  and  its 
influence  was  felt  upon  the  objects  of  the  coast. 
The  ridges  of  the  peninsular  rocks  glimmered,  and 
the  outline  of  the  whole  coast  became  faintly  seen. 
It  was  coming — the  dawn  for  which  the  world  was 
waiting  was  nigh.  The  doubts  born  of  the  night 
were  ready  to  fly  away  as  that  great  heron  which 
rose  in  front  of  him  fled  with  winnowing  wings 
across  the  surface  of  the  sea. 


CHAPTEE   XXIII 

THE  first  faint  breath  of  the  dawn — that  sigh  of 
light  of  which  the  air  was  scarcely  conscious — made 
him  aware  as  he  walked  along  the  sands  of  the  fact 
that  the  beach  was  strewn  with  wreckage.  He 
found  himself  examining  a  broken  spar  upon  which 
he  had  struck  his  foot.  Further  on  he  stumbled 
over  a  hen-coop,  and  then  again  a  fragment  that 
looked  like  the  cover  of  a  hatchway. 

He  had  heard  nothing  about  a  vessel's  having 
come  ashore  during  the  tempest  of  the  morning; 
but  there  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  sudden 
appearing  of  wreckage  on  this  wild  Cornish  coast. 
Almost  every  tide  washed  up  something  that  had 
once  been  part  of  a  gallant  ship.  Wreckage  came 
without  anyone  hearing  of  the  wreck  from  which  it 
had  come.  He  examined  the  broken  spar,  and  his 
fancy  showed  him  the  scene  at  the  foundering  of 
such  a  ship  as  the  Gloriana,  whose  carcase  had 
been  so  marvellously  uncovered  on  the  Sunday 
evening.  He  had  had  enough  experience  of  sea- 
faring to  be  able  to  picture  the  details  of  the  wreck- 
age of  such  a  ship. 

He  left  the  beach  and  went  on  to  the  ascent  of 
the  higher  part  of  the  shore,  thinking  that  it  might 
be  that  when  the  dawn  strengthened  it  might  reveal 
the  shape  of  some  craft  that  had  run  ashore  on  the 
outer  reef  at  this  dangerous  part  of  the  coast ;  and 
even  before  he  reached  the  elevated  ground  the 
dawn  light  had  spread  its  faint  gauze  over  the  sea, 
and  the  shapes  of  the  rocks  were  plain.  He  looked 

281 


282       THE    LOVE    THAT   PEEVAILED 

out  carefully,  scanning  the  whole  coast,  but  he 
failed  to  see  any  wreck  between  the  horns  of  the 
bay. 

But  when  he  had  continued  his  slow  walk  for  a 
few  hundred  yards  he  fancied  that  he  saw  some 
objects  that  looked  dark  against  the  pale  sands. 
At  first  he  thought  that  he  was  looking  at  a  rock 
that  had  some  resemblance  to  the  form  of  a  man; 
but  a  movement  of  a  portion  of  the  object  showed 
that  it  was  indeed  a  man  who  was  standing  there. 

Wesley  had  no  mind  for  a  companion  on  this 
stroll  of  his,  so  he  went  a  short  way  inland  in  order 
to  save  himself  from  being  seen,  and  he  did  not 
return  to  the  sandy  edge  of  the  high  ground  until 
he  judged  that  he  had  gone  beyond  the  spot  where 
he  had  seen  the  man.  Turning  about,  he  found 
that  he  had  done  what  he  intended :  he  saw  the  dark 
figure  walking  from  where  he  had  been,  in  the 
direction  of  the  sea. 

But  by  this  time  the  light  had  so  increased  that 
he  was  able  to  see  that  the  man  was  walking  away 
from  the  body  of  another  that  was  lying  on  the 
beach. 

He  had  scarcely  noticed  this  before  the  man 
stopped,  looked  back,  and  slowly  returned  to  the 
body.  But  the  moment  he  reached  it  Wesley  was 
amazed  to  see  him  throw  up  his  arms  as  if  in  sur- 
prise and  then  fling  himself  down  on  the  body  with 
his  hands  upon  its  throat. 

Wesley  knew  nothing  except  that  the  man's  at- 
titude was  that  of  one  who  was  trying  to  strangle 
another.  But  this  was  surely  enough.  He  shouted 
out  and  rushed  toward  the  place  with  a  menace. 

The  man  was  startled;  his  head  went  back  with 
a  jerk,  but  his  hands  did  not  leave  the  other's  throat. 
Wesley  had  to  drag  him  back  by  the  collar,  and 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED      283 

even  then  he  did  not  relax  his  hold  until  the  body 
had  been  lifted  up  into  a  sitting  position.  The 
moment  the  man's  fingers  were  loosed  the  head 
fell  back  upon  the  sand. 

Wesley  threw  himself  between  the  two,  and  the 
instant  that  he  turned  upon  the  assailant  he 
recognised  John  Bennet. 

"  Wretch ! "  he  cried,  "  what  is  it  that  you 
would  do?  What  is  it  that  you  have  done — 
murderer?  " 

Bennet  stared  at  him  as  if  stupefied.  Then  he 
burst  into  a  laugh,  but  stopped  himself  suddenly. 

"Mr.  Wesley,  is  it?"  he  cried.  "Oh,  sir,  is't 
you  indeed  that  pulls  my  hands  off  his  throat? 
There  is  something  for  the  Devil  to  laugh  at  in 
that," 

"  Man,  if  you  be  a  man  and  not  a  fiend, 
would  you  strangle  one  whom  the  sea  has  already 
drowned?"  cried  Wesley. 

"  I  have  the  right,"  shouted  Bennet,  "  for  he 
would  be  dead  by  now  if  I  had  not  succoured 
him." 

"  If  it  be  true  that  you  saved  him  from  an  im- 
minent death,  at  that  time,  wherefore  should  you 
strive  to  murder  him  now?  "  said  Wesley. 

"  I  did  not  see  his  face  then — it  was  dark  when 
I  stumbled  on  him.  Only  when  I  turned  about 
when  the  dawn  broke  I  saw  who  he  was.  Go  your 
ways,  Mr.  Wesley.  The  man  is  mine  by  every  law 
of  fair  play.  Stand  not  between  us,  sir,  or  you 
shall  suffer  for  it." 

"  Monster,  think  you  that  I  shall  obey  you  while 
a  breath  remains  in  my  body?  I  shall  withstand 
you  to  the  death,  John  Bennet ;  you  shall  have  two 
murders  laid  at  your  door  instead  of  one." 

The  man  laughed  as  before.    Then  he  said : 


"  That  is  the  point  where  the  devils  begin  to 
laugh — ho !  ho !  John  Wesley !  " 

"  I  have  heard  one  of  them,"  said  Wesley. 

"  Oh,  you  fool,  to  stay  my  hand !  Know  you  not 
that  the  man  lying  there  is  none  other  than  he 
whom  Nelly  Polwhele  has  promised  to  marry?" 

"  And  is  not  that  a  sufficient  reason  why  you 
should  do  your  best  to  save  him — not  take  his  life 
away?  " 

For  more  than  a  minute  the  man  was  too  aston- 
ished to  speak.  At  last  he  said: 

"  Is  it  that  you  are  mad,  John  Wesley?  Heard 
you  not  what  I  said?  " 

"  Every  word,"  replied  Wesley. 

"  You  cannot  have  taken  in  my  words,"  the  other 
whispered.  "  Think,  sir,  that  is  the  foolish  thing 
that  stands  between  you  and  her — you  love  her — 
I  have  seen  that." 

"And  I  stand  between  you  and  him — that  is 
enough  for  the  present  moment,"  said  Wesley 
quickly,  facing  the  man,  whom  he  noticed  sidling 
round  ready  to  leap  upon  the  body  lying  on  the 
beach. 

Bennet  saw  that  his  cunning  was  overmatched. 

"  Fool !  I  cry  again,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 
"  Would  not  I  slay  a  score  such  as  you  and  he  for 
her  sake?  A  man's  soul  can  only  be  lost  once,  and 
I  am  ready  to  go  to  perdition  for  her — I  have 
counted  the  cost.  The  best  of  the  bargain  is  with 
me !  Out  of  my  way,  sir — out  of  my  way !  " 

He  took  a  few  steps  back,  preparing  to  rush  at 
the  other.  Wesley  kept  his  eyes  upon  him  and 
stood  with  his  feet  firmly  planted  to  stand  against 
his  violence.  But  before  the  man  could  make  his 
rush  there  was  sudden  flash  of  light  in  his  face, 
dazzling  him  and  Wesley  as  well.  The  light  shifted 


'Go  your  ways,  Mr.  Wesley.     The  man  is  mine  by  every  law  of  fair  play." 

—Page  283 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       285 

about  for  a  few  moments  and  Wesley  turned  to  see 
whence  it  came.  There  was  the  sound  of  a  hard 
boot  on  the  pebbles  and  a  man's  voice  said : 

"  Avast  there !  Don't  move  a  hand.  I  have  a 
pistol  covering  ye,  and  a  cutlash  is  in  my  belt." 

"  You  have  come  in  good  time,  whoever  you  be," 
said  Wesley.  "  But  you  will  have  no  need  to  use 
your  weapons,  sir." 

"  Ay,  ay,  but  if  there's  a  move  between  ye,  my 
gentlemen,  I'll  make  spindrift  o'  your  brains.  Ye 
hear?"  was  the  response. 

The  man,  who  had  flashed  his  lantern  upon  them 
— the  dawn  was  still  very  faint — came  beside  them, 
and  showed  that  he  had  not  made  an  empty  boast. 
Wesley  perceived  that  he  was  one  of  the  Preventive 
men,  fully  armed. 

He  kept  the  blaze  of  his  lantern  on  Bennet's 
face  and  then  turned  it  on  Wesley,  whom  he  ap- 
peared to  recognise. 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  sir,  wrhat's  this?  "  he  cried. 

"  Take  no  thought  for  us,"  said  Wesley.  "  Here 
lies  a  poor  wretch  washed  ashore.  Give  me  your 
help  to  bring  back  life  to  him.  No  moment  must 
be  lost — the  loss  of  a  minute  may  mean  the  loss 
of  his  life." 

He  was  already  kneeling  beside  the  prostrate 
figure.  The  Preventive  man  followed  his  example. 
They  both  exclaimed  in  one  voice: 

"  He  is  alive !  " 

"  God  be  thanked,"  said  Wesley  solemnly.  "  I 
feared " 

"  You  have  treated  him  with  skill,  sir,"  said 
the  man.  "  You  did  not  give  him  a  dram?  " 

"  I  have  only  been  here  a  few  minutes ;  the  saving 
of  him  from  drowning  is  not  due  to  me,"  said 
Wesley. 


286       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

The  man  had  his  ration  of  rum  in  his  knapsack, 
and  was  administering  it,  Bennet  standing  by 
without  a  word. 

"  We  must  get  help  to  carry  him  to  the  nearest 
house,"  said  the  Preventive  man. 

"  I  shall  hasten  to  the  village,"  said  Wesley.  But 
he  suddenly  checked  himself.  He  knew  that  Ben- 
net's  cunning  would  be  equal  to  such  a  device  as 
to  get  rid  of  the  revenue  officer  for  the  few  minutes 
necessary  to  crush  the  life  out  of  the  man  on  the 
sand.  "  No,  on  second  thought  yonder  man — his 
name  is  Bennet — will  do  this  duty.  John  Bennet, 
you  will  hasten  to  the  nearest  house — any  house 
save  Polwhele's — and  return  with  at  least  two  of 
the  fishermen.  They  will  come  hither  with  two 
oars  and  a  small  sail — enough  sailcloth  to  make 
into  a  hammock  for  the  bearing  of  the  man  with 
ease.  You  will  do  my  bidding." 

"  I  will  do  your  bidding,"  said  Bennet  after  a 
pause,  and  forthwith  he  hurried  away. 

"  What  is  all  this,  sir?  "  asked  the  man  in  a  low 
tone  when  he  had  gone.  "  I  heard  your  voice  and 
his — he  is  half  a  madman — they  had  the  sound  of 
a  quarrel." 

"  You  arrived  in  good  time,  friend,"  said  Wesley. 
"  You  say  this  man  was  treated  with  skill  in  his 
emergency;  if  so,  it  must  be  placed  to  the  credit 
of  John  Bennet.  I  can  say  so  much,  but  no 
more." 

"  I'll  ask  no  more  from  you,  sir,"  said  the  other, 
slowly  and  suspiciously.  "  But  if  I  heard  of  Ben- 
net's  murdering  a  man  I  would  believe  it  sooner 
than  any  tale  of  his  succouring  one.  He  is  a  bit 
loose  in  the  hatches,  as  the  saying  is;  I  doubt  if 
he  will  bear  your  message,  sir." 

"  I  shall  make  this  sure  by  going  myself,"  said 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED       287. 

Wesley.  "  I  am  of  no  help  here ;  you  have  dealt 
with  the  half  drowned  before  now." 

"  A  score  of  times — and  another  score  to  the 
back  of  the  first,"  said  the  man.  "  I  tell  you  this 
one  is  well  on  the  mend.  But  a  warm  blanket  will 
be  more  to  him  than  an  anker  of  Jamaica  rum. 
You  do  well  to  follow  Bennet.  Would  the  loan  of 
a  pistol  be  of  any  confidence  to  you  in  the  job?  " 

"  There  will  be  no  need  for  such  now,  even  if  I 
knew  how  to  use  one,"  said  Wesley. 

He  perceived  that  the  man  had  his  suspicions. 
He  hurried  away  when  he  had  reached  the  track 
above  the  shingle. 

It  was  quite  light  before  he  reached  the  nearest 
cottage,  which  stood  about  a  hundred  yards  east 
of  the  Port  Street,  and  belonged  to  a  fisherman 
and  boatwright  named  Garvice.  The  men  and  his 
sons  had  their  tar-pot  on  the  brazier  and  had 
already  begun  work  on  a  dinghy  which  lay  keel 
uppermost  before  them. 

They  looked  with  surprise  at  him  when  he  asked 
if  they  had  been  long  at  work. 

"  On'y  a  matter  o'  quartern  hour,"  replied  the 
old  man. 

"  Then  you  must  have  seen  John  Bennet  and  got 
his  message?  "  said  Wesley. 

"  Seen  John  Bennet?  Ay,  ay — still  mad.  Mes- 
sage? No  message  i'  the  world.  What  message 
'ud  a  hare-brainer  like  to  'un  bear  to  folk  wi'  the 
five  senses  o'  Golmighty  complete?"  the  old  man 
enquired. 

"  Do  you  tell  me  that  Bennet  said  naught  to  you 
about  a  half -drowned  man  needing  your  help?" 
asked  Wesley. 

"  No  word.  Even  if  so  rigid  a  madman  ha'  car- 
ried that  tale  think  ye  we'd  be  here  the  now?  " 


288       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"  'Tis  as  well  that  I  came,  though  I  thought  it 
cruel  to  distrust  him,"  said  Wesley. 

He  then  told  the  man  what  was  needed,  and  be- 
fore he  had  spoken  a  dozen  words  the  old  man  had 
thrown  down  his  tar-brush  and  was  signalling  his 
sons  to  run  down  one  of  the  boats  to  the  water. 

"  Paddle  round  in  half  the  time  takes  t'  walk," 
he  said.  "  No  back  breakin',  no  bone  shakin'  's 
my  morter.  Down  she  goes." 

Wesley  was  glad  to  accept  a  seat  in  the  stern 
sheets  of  the  small  boat  which  was  run  down  to 
the  water,  not  twenty  yards  from  the  building 
shed;  and  when  he  returned  with  the  three  boat- 
men to  that  part  of  the  coast  from  which  he  had 
walked,  he  found  the  man  to  whose  aid  he  had  come 
sitting  up  and  able  to  say  a  word  or  two  to  the 
revenue  man,  who  was  kneeling  beside  him,  having 
just  taken  his  empty  rum  bottle  from  his  mouth. 

Old  Garvice  looked  as  if  he  felt  that  he  had  been 
brought  from  his  work  under  false  pretences.  He 
plodded  slowly  across  the  intervening  piece  of 
beach  a  long  way  behind  Mr.  Wesley,  and  the  Pre- 
ventive man  had  reported  the  progress  to  recovery 
made  by  the  other  before  the  Garvice  family  had 
come  up.  The  Garvices  had  had  more  than  a  nod- 
ding acquaintance  with  the  revenue  authorities 
before  this  morning. 

"  John  Bennet  is  a  bigger  rascal  than  I  thought, 
and  that's  going  far,"  said  the  Preventive  man 
when  Wesley  told  him  that  no  message  had  been 
given  at  the  Port.  "If  I  come  face  to  face  with 
him,  them  that's  nigh  will  see  some  blood-letting. 
Why,  e'en  Ned  Garvice,  that  I've  been  trying  to 
lay  a  trap  for  this  twelve  year,  lets  bygones  be 
bygones  when  there's  a  foundered  man  to  suc- 
cour." 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       289 

"Where  is  'un?  "  enquired  the  old  man  withj 
pointed  satire,  looking  round  with  a  blank  face. 

The  bedraggled  man  sitting  on  the  beach  was 
able  to  smile. 

"  Wish  I'd  had  the  head  to  bid  you  ask  Neddy 
Garvice  to  carry  hither  a  bottle  of  his  French 
brandy — ay,  the  lot  that  you  run  ashore  when  the 
cutter  fouled  on  the  bank,"  said  the  Preventive  man. 

"  Oh,  that  lot?  Had  I  got  a  billet  from  you, 
Freddy  Wise,  I'd  ha'  put  a  stoup  from  the  kegs 
o'  the  Gorgon  into  my  pocket,"  said  the  old  man 
wickedly.  Mr.  Wesley  did  not  know  that  the  Gor- 
gon wras  a  large  ship  that  had  come  ashore  the 
previous  year,  and  had  been  stripped  bare  by  the 
wreckers.  "  Oh,  ay ;  the  Gorgon  for  brandy  and  the 
Burglarmaster  for  schnapps,  says  I,  and  I  sticks 
to  that  object  o'  creed,  Freddy,  whatsoe'er  you 
says."  The  Bourghermeister  was  the  name  of  an- 
other wreck  wrhose  stores  the  revenue  men  had 
been  too  slow  to  save  some  years  before. 

But  while  these  pleasantries  were  being  ex- 
changed between  the  men  Wesley  was  looking  at 
the  one  in  whose  interests  he  was  most  concerned. 
He  was  lying  with  his  head  supported  by  a  crag  on 
which  Fred  Wise  had  spread  his  boat  cloak.  His 
face  was  frightfully  pallid,  and  his  forehead  was 
like  wax,  only  across  his  temple  there  was  a  long 
ugly  gash,  around  which  the  blood  had  coagulated. 
His  eyes  were  closed  except  at  intervals  when  he 
started,  and  they  opened  suddenly  and  began  to 
stare  rather  wildly.  His  arms  hung  down  and  his 
hands  were  lying  limp  on  the  beach  palms  up, 
suggesting  the  helplessness  of  a  dead  man.  He 
was  clearly  a  large  and  strongly  built  fellow,  who 
could  sail  a  ship  and  manage  a  crew,  using  his 
head  as  well  as  his  hands. 


290       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

The  others  were  looking  at  him  critically ;  he  was 
so  far  recovered  that  they  did  not  seem  to  think 
there  was  any  imperative  need  for  haste  in  the 
matter  of  carrying  him  to  a  bed;  although  they 
criticised  him  as  if  he  were  dead. 

"  Worser  lads  ha'  gone  down  and  heard  of  for 
nevermore,"  said  the  old  fisherman.  "  Did  he 
know  that  Squire  Trevelyan  buries  free  of  all  duty 
all  such  as  the  sea  washes  up  'tween  tides?  That's 
the  'vantage  to  be  drowned  on  these  shores;  but 
the  Squire  keeps  that  knowledge  like  a  solemn  se- 
cret; fears  there'd  be  a  rush — they'd  be  jammin' 
one  t'other  amongst  crags  as  for  who'd  come  fore- 
most to  his  own  funeral." 

"  Tis  no  secret  o'  gravity,  Ned  Garvice,  that  you 
.give  orders  to  your  boys  to  carry  you  down  in  the 
cool  o'  the  evening  when  you  feel  your  hour's  at 
hand,  and  lay  ye  out  trim  and  tidy  for  the  flood- 
tide,  so  that  ye  get  a  free  funeral,  and  Parson  Rod- 
ney's '  Earth  t'  earth '  thrown  into  the  bargain," 
said  Wise. 

"  I've  learned  my  sons  to  honour  their  father, 
and  it  puts  'un  back  a  long  way  in  their  'struction 
to  be  face  to  face  wi'  'un  as  has  a  hardened  scoff  for 
his  grey  hairs,"  said  the  fisherman.  "  Go  your  ways, 
lads,  and  gather  limpits  so  ye  hear  not  evil  words 
that  shake  your  faith  in  your  ancient  father.  But 
what  I  can't  see  is  how  he  got  them  finger-marks 
on  his  neck." 

He  pointed  to  the  man  on  the  beach. 

"  They  ha'  the  aspect  o'  finger  marks,  now  ha' 
they  not,  sir?  "  said  Wise  meaningly,  turning  to 
Wesley. 

"  My  thought,  friends,  amounts  to  this :  I  have 
heard  that  in  cases  of  rescue  from  drowning  quick- 
ness is  most  needful  for  the  complete  restoration  of 


THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED      291 

the  sufferer,"  said  Wesley.  "  Now,  sirs,  I  ask  you 
is  this  the  moment  for  light  gossip,  when  yonder 
poor  fellow  lies  as  if  he  had  not  an  hour's  life  in 
his  body?  " 

"  There's  summat  i*  that,  too,"  said  old  Garvice, 
as  if  a  matter  which  he  had  been  discussing  had 
suddenly  been  presented  to  him  in  an  entirely  new 
light. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  Preventive  man,  "  when  a 
corpse  has  revived  so  far  'tis  thought  best  that  he 
should  have  a  short  rest;  it  kind  o'  way  knits  the 
body  and  soul  together  all  the  closer.  The  man 
is  in  no  danger  now,  I  firmly  believe;  but,  as  you 
say,  there's  no  need  for  wasting  any  more  time. 
Give  us  a  heave  under  his  other  armpit,  my  lad. 
Heave  handsomely;  there's  naught  but  a  thin  half- 
hour  'twixt  him  and  eternity — mind  that,  and  you 
won't  jerk.  Who's  for  his  heels?  " 

The  elder  of  Garvice's  sons — a  big  lad  of  twenty 
— obeyed  the  instructions  of  the  revenue  man,  and 
Wesley  and  the  old  fisherman  went  to  the  feet. 

"  'Vast  hauling !  Set  me  up  on  end,"  said  the 
man  over  whom  they  were  bending.  He  spoke  in 
a  low  voice  and  weak;  he  did  not  seem  to  have 
sufficient  breath  to  make  himself  heard. 

"  Hear  that?  "  said  the  fisherman  with  a  saga- 
cious wink.  "  There's  the  lightsome  and  blithe 
quarter-deck  voice  o'  your  master-mariner  when 
warping  into  dock  and  his  missus  a-waitin'  for  'un 
rosy  as  silk  on  the  pier-head.  'Tis  then  that  if  so 
be  that  a  man's  genteel,  it  will  out." 

"  'Vast  jaw,  my  hearty ! "  murmured  the  man 
wearily. 

"  That's  the  tone  that  fills  the  air  wi'  th'  smell 
o'  salt  beef  for  me  whene'er  I  hears  'un — ay,  sirs, 
salt  beef  more  lifelike  and  lively  than  this  high 


ship-master  who  I  trow  hath  ofttimes  watched  a 
ration  toddle  round  the  cuddy  table  like  to  a 
guileless  infant." 

"  Heave  all,  with  a  will ! "  cried  Wise,  and  the 
four  men  raised  the  other  as  tenderly  as  a  bulk 
so  considerable  could  be  taken  off  the  ground,  and 
bore  him  with  some  staggering  and  heavy  breathing, 
down  to  where  the  youngest  of  the  Garvice  family 
was  keeping  the  dinghy  afloat  over  the  rapidly  shal- 
lowing sand. 

An  hour  later,  when  the  day  was  still  young, 
iWesley  was  kneeling  by  his  bedside  giving  thanks 
to  Heaven  for  having  allowed  him  to  participate  in 
the  privilege  of  saving  a  fellow-creature  from  death. 


•CHAPTER    XXIV 

HE  slept  for  an  hour  or  two,  but  awoke  feeling 
strangely  unrefreshed.  But  he  joined  Hartwell  at 
breakfast  and  heard  the  news  that  the  latter  had 
acquired  during  his  usual  half-hour's  stroll  through 
the  village. 

After  shaking  his  guest  warmly  by  the  hand, 
Hartwell  cried : 

"  What,  Mr.  Wesley,  was  it  that  you  did  not  be- 
lieve you  had  adventure  enough  for  one  Summer's 
day,  that  you  must  needs  fare  forth  in  search  of 
others  before  sunrise?  " 

Wesley  laughed. 

"  I  ventured  nothing,  my  good  friend,"  he  said. 
"  I  came  upon  the  shipwrecked  man  by  the  blessing 
of  God,  in  good  time.  I  have  been  wondering  since 
I  rose  if  he  had  suffered  shipwreck.  Did  you  learn 
so  much  at  the  village — and  pray  hath  he  fully 
recovered  himself?  " 

"  I  dare  not  say  fully,  but  he  has  recovered  him- 
self enough  to  be  able  to  tell  his  story,"  replied 
Hartwell. 

"  And  he  was  wrecked?  " 

"  Only  swamped  at  sea.  He  is  a  ship-master, 
Snowdon,  by  name,  but  'twas  not  his  own  craft  that 
went  down,  but  only  a  miserable  coasting  ketch 
that  ventured  from  Bristol  port  to  Poole  with  a 
cargo  of  pottery — something  eminently  sinkable. 
Strange  to  say,  Captain  Snowdon  set  out  from 
Bristol,  wanting  to  go  no  further  than  our  own 
port;  for  why?  you  ask.  Why,  sir,  for  a  true 

293 


294       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

lover's  reason,  which  may  be  reckoned  by  some  folk 
as  no  reason  at  all — namely  a  hope  to  get  speedily 
by  the  side  of  his  mistress,  this  lady  being  none 
other  than  our  friend,  the  pretty  and  virtuous 
young  woman  known  as  Nelly  Polwhele." 

"Ah!      Nelly  Polwhele?  " 

"  None  other,  sir.  It  seems  that  Nelly  met  this 
good  master-mariner  a  year  ago  at  Bristol,  and 
following  the  usage  of  all  our  swains,  he  falls 
in  love  with  her.  And  she,  contrary  to  her  usage 
of  the  stay-at-home  swains  who  piped  to  her,  re- 
plies with  love  for  love.  But  a  long  voyage  loomed 
before  him,  so  after  getting  her  promise,  he  sails 
for  the  China  Seas  and  the  coast  of  the  Great 
Mogul.  Returning  with  a  full  heart  and,  I  doubt 
not,  a  full  pocket  as  well,  he  is  too  impatient  to 
wait  for  the  sailing  of  a  middle-sized  packet  for 
Falmouth  or  Plymouth,  he  must  needs  take  a  pas- 
sage in  the  first  thing  shaped  like  a  boat  that  meant 
to  come  round  the  Lizard,  and  this  was  a  ketch  of 
some  ten  ton,  that  opened  every  seam  before  the 
seas  that  the  hurricane  of  yesterday  raised  up  in 
the  Channel,  and  so  got  swamped  when  trying  to 
run  ashore  on  some  soft  ground.  Nelly's  ship- 
master, Mr.  Snowdon,  must  have  been  struggling 
in  the  water  for  something  like  four  hours,  and 
was  washed  up,  well-nigh  at  the  very  door  of  the 
young  woman's  cottage,  and  so — well,  you  know 
more  of  the  remainder  of  the  story  than  doth  any- 
living  man — not  even  excepting  the  Captain  him- 
self." 

"  And  the  young  woman — have  you  heard  how 
she  received  her  lover?  "  asked  Wesley. 

"Ah,  that  is  the  point  at  which  Rumour  be- 
comes, for  a  marvel,  discreetly  silent,"  replied 
Hartwell.  "  I  suppose  it  is  taken  for  granted  that 


THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED      295 

the  theme  has  been  dealt  with  too  frequently  by 
the  poets  to  have  need  to  be  further  illustrated  by 
a  fisherman's  daughter.  Take  my  word  for  it, 
sir,  the  young  woman,  despite  her  abundance  of 
womanly  traits,  is  a  good  and  kind  and  true  girl 
at  heart.  She  hath  not  been  spoiled  by  the  edu- 
cation which  she  received  as  companion  to  the 
Squire's  young  ladies." 

"  That  was  my  judgment,  too,"  said  Wesley. 
"  I  pray  that  the  man  will  be  a  good  husband  to 
her.  His  worldly  position  as  the  master  of  an 
East  Indiaman  is  an  excellent  one." 

"  He  will  make  her  a  very  suitable  husband," 
said  Hartwell.  "  I  must  confess  that  I  have  had 
my  fears  for  her.  She  is  possessed  of  such  good 
looks — a  dangerous  possession  for  such  a  young 
woman,  sir.  These,  coupled  with  her  intimate  as- 
sociation with  the  Squire's  daughters,  might  have 
led  her  into  danger.  A  less  sensible  girl  would 
certainly  be  likely  to  set  her  cap  at  someone  a  good 
deal  above  her  in  station — a  dangerous  thing — 
very  dangerous ! " 

"  No  doubt,  sir.  And  now  you  are  disposed  to 
think  that  her  happiness  is,  humanly  speaking, 
assured?  " 

"  I  think  that  she  is  a  very  fortunate  young 
woman,  and  that  the  man  is  even  more  fortunate 
still.  Old  Polwhele,  in  his  whimsical  way,  how- 
ever, protests  that  he  wishes  the  man  whose  intent 
it  is  to  rob  him  of  his  daughter,  had  got  drowned. 
He  grumbled  about  the  part  you  played  in  the  mat- 
ter— he  was  very  whimsical.  t  What,  sir,'  he  grum- 
bled to  me  just  now,  ( is  Mr.  Wesley  not  content 
with  looking  after  our  souls — is  he  turning  his  at- 
tention to  our  bodies  as  well?  '  _  Old  Polwhele  has 
a  nimble  wit." 


296       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

"  It  was  not  I,  but  John  Bennet,  who  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  restore  the  man:  he  treated  him 
altogether  skilfully,  the  revenue  patrol-man  told 
me." 

Hartwell  threw  up  his  hands  in  surprise.  Then 
he  frowned.  He  was  plainly  puzzled  for  some  time. 
At  last  he  said: 

"  Mr.  Wesley,  if  Bennet  saved  that  man's  life  he 
must  have  stumbled  on  him  while  it  was  yet  dark — 
too  dark  to  let  him  see  the  man's  face." 

"  But  how  should  he  know  who  the  man  was, 
even  if  he  had  seen  his  face?  " 

"  He  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Snowdon  at  Bris- 
tol, and  his  grievance  was  that  if  Snowdon  had  not 
appeared,  the  girl  would  have  accepted  his  own 
suit.  Oh,  yes ;  it  must  have  been  too  dark  for  him 
to  see  the  man's  face,  or  it  would  have  gone  hardly 
with  the  poor  fellow." 

There  was  a  considerable  pause  before  Wesley 
said: 

"You  are  right;  it  was  too  dark  to  allow  him 
to  recognise  the  man's  features.  Has  he  been  seen 
at  the  village  during  the  morning?  " 

"  If  he  has  I  heard  nothing  of  it,"  replied  Hart- 
well,  "it  might  be  as  well  to  say  a  word  of  warn- 
ing to  Mr.  Snowdon  respecting  him;  he  is  a  mad- 
man, and  dangerous.  You  do  not  forget  the  mad 
thing  he  said  about  you  on  Sunday,  sir?-" 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  it,"  said  Wesley  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  have  not  forgotten  it.  I  think  that  I 
shall  set  out  upon  my  journey  this  afternoon." 

The  pause  that  he  made  between  his  sentences 
was  so  slight  as  to  suggest  that  they  were  actually 
connected — that  there  was  some  connection  be- 
tween the  thing  that  Bennet  had  said  and  his  own 
speedy  departure. 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       297: 

His  host,  who  was  in  good  spirits  after  his  walk 
in  the  early  sunshine,  gave  a  laugh  and  asked  him 
in  no  spirit  of  gravity  if  he  felt  that  it  was  neces- 
sary for  him  to  fly  lest  Captain  Snowdon  should 
develop  the  same  spirit  of  jealousy  that  had  made 
Bennet  fit  for  Bedlam. 

Wesley  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 

"  Need  I  ask  your  pardon  for  a  pointless  jest, 
sir?  "  cried  Hartwell.  "  Nay,  dear  sir  and  brother, 
I  hope  you  will  find  good  reason  for  remaining  with 
us  for  a  few  days  still.  You  have  had  a  trying 
time  since  you  came,  Mr.  Wesley;  and  I  do  not 
think  that  you  are  fit  to  set  out  on  so  rude  a 
journey." 

"  I  confess  that  I  feel  somewhat  exhausted,"  said 
Wesley,  "  but  I  have  hope  that  an  hour  or  two  in 
the  saddle  wrill  restore  me." 

Hartwell  did  his  best  to  persuade  him  to  recon- 
cile himself  to  the  idea  of  staying  in  the  neighbour- 
hood for  at  least  another  day,  but  without  success. 

"  I  must  go.  I  feel  that  I  must  go,  grateful 
though  I  be  to  you  for  your  offer  of  hospitality," 
said  Wesley. 

"  Then  I  will  not  say  a  further  word.  If  it  be 
a  matter  of  feeling  with  you,  I  do  not  feel  justified 
in  asking  you  to  change  your  intention,"  said  Hart- 
well.  "  I  shall  give  orders  as  to  your  horse  without 
delay." 

But  the  horse  was  not  needed  that  day,  nor  was  it 
likely  to  be  needed  for  some  time  to  come,  for  within 
the  hour  after  breakfast  Mr.  Wesley  was  overcome 
by  a  shivering  fit  and  compelled  to  take  to  his  bed. 
It  became  plain  that  he  had  caught  a  chill — the 
wonder  was  that  it  had  not  manifested  itself  sooner, 
considering  that  he  had  sat  .for  so  long  the  day 
before  in  his  saturated  garments,  and  the  very 


298       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

trying  morning  that  he  had  had.  Mr.  Hartwell, 
who  had  some  knowledge  of  medicine,  and  a  con- 
siderable experience  of  the  simpler  maladies  to 
which  his  miners  were  subject,  found  that  he  was 
more  than  a  little  feverish,  and  expressed  the 
opinion  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  travel  for  a 
full  week.  Wesley,  who,  himself,  knew  enough 
about  the  treatment  of  disease  to  allow  of  his  writ- 
ing a  book  on  the  subject,  agreed  with  him,  that 
it  was  not  necessary  to  send  for  a  physician,  who 
might  possibly  differ  from  both  of  them  in  his 
diagnosis. 

For  three  days  he  remained  in  bed,  and  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  he  would  have  nothing  to  say  to 
the  Peruvian  bark  which  his  host  so  strongly  rec- 
ommended, his  feverish  tendency  gradually  abated, 
and  by  careful  nursing  he  was  able  to  sit  up  in 
his  room  by  the  end  of  a  week. 

In  the  meantime  he  had  many  visitors,  though  he 
refrained  from  seeing  any  of  them.  His  host  told 
him  that  Miller  Pendelley,  Jake  Pullsford,  and  Hal 
Holmes  had  driven  more  than  once  from  Ruthal- 
lion  when  they  heard  of  his  illness;  but  of  course 
the  earliest  and  most  constant  of  the  enquirers 
after  his  health  were  Nelly  Polwhele  and  her  lover. 
Mr.  Hartwell  told  him  how  greatly  distressed  they 
were,  and  perhaps  it  was  natural,  he  added,  that 
the  girl  should  be  the  one  who  laid  the  greatest 
emphasis  upon  the  fact  that  they  were  the  cause 
of  Mr.  Wesley's  suffering.  She  was  undoubtedly 
a  sweet  and  unselfish  girl,  Hartwell  said;  and  he 
feared  that  Captain  Snowdon  thought  that  she  was 
making  too  great  a  fuss  in  referring  to  the  risks 
which  he,  Wesley,  had  run  to  bring  her  happiness. 
Snowdon,  being  a  man,  had  not  her  imagination; 
and  besides  his  life  had  been  made  up  of  running 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   299 

risks  for  the  benefit  of  other  people,  and  he  was 
scarcely  to  be  blamed  if  he  took  a  less  emotional 
view  of,  at  least,  the  incident  of  Wesley's  finding 
him  exhausted  on  the  shore  in  the  early  dawn. 

"  I  spoke  with  him  to-day,"  said  Hart-well  when 
his  guest  was  able  to  hear  these  things,  "  and  while 
he  certainly  showed  himself  greatly  concerned  at 
your  sickness,  he  grumbled,  half  humorously,  when 
he  touched  upon  the  way  he  was  being  neglected 
by  the  young  woman.  '  I  am  being  hardly  treated, 
sir,'  he  said.  i  What  is  a  simple  master-mariner 
at  best  alongsides  a  parson  with  a  persuasive  voice? 
But  when  the  parson  adds  on  to  his  other  qualities 
the  dash  and  derring-do  of  a  hero  it  seems  to  me 
that  a  plain  man  had  best  get  into  his  boat,  if  so 
be  that  he  have  one,  and  sail  away — it  boots  not 
whither,  so  long  as  he  goes.  Oh,  ay,  sir,  I  allow 
that  your  Mr.  Wesley  hath  made  short  work  of  me/ 
Those  were  his  words;  and  though  they  were  fol- 
lowed by  an  earnest  enquiry  after  your  health,  I 
could  see  that  he  would  as  lief  that  he  owed  his 
life  to  a  more  ordinary  man." 

"  If  I  had  not  been  overtaken  by  this  sickness, 
he  would  have  had  no  cause  for  complaint,"  said 
Wesley.  After  a  pause  he  touched  with  caution 
upon  a  matter  over  which  he  had  been  thinking  for 
some  time. 

"  Mr.  Snowdon  heard  nothing  about  a  rival  other 
than  myself  in  the  young  woman's  regard? "  he 
said. 

"  Oh,  not  he,"  replied  Hartwell  quickly.  "  Snow- 
don is  not  the  fellow  to  listen  to  all  that  the  gossips 
may  say  about  Madam  Nelly's  liking  for  admira- 
tion— he  knows  well  that  so  pretty  a  thing  will  be 
slandered,  even  when  she  shows  herself  to  be  wisely 
provident  by  seeking  to  have  two  strings  to  her 


300       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

bow.  But,  indeed,  whatever  her  weakness  may 
have  been  in  the  past,  she  hath  been  a  changed  girl 
since  you  first  came  hither.  Captain  Snowdon  has 
no  rival  but  yourself,  sir,  and  I  am  certain  that 
the  honest  fellow  would  not  for  the  world  that  the 
young  woman  abated  aught  of  her  gratitude  to 
you.  He  has  too  large  a  heart  to  harbour  any 
thought  so  unworthy  of  a  true  man." 

"  God  forbid  that  anything  should  come  between 
them  and  happiness,"  said  Wesley. 

"  'Tis  all  unlikely,"  said  his  host.  "  He  must 
see  that  her  love  for  him  must  be  in  proportion  to 
her  gratitude  to  you  for  having  done  all  that  you 
have  done  for  him.  If  she  did  not  love  him  dearly 
she  would  have  no  need  to  be  half  so  grateful  to 
you." 

Wesley  said  nothing  more  on  this  point.  He  had 
not  forgotten  what  Nelly  had  confided  to  him  and 
the  counsel  which  he  had  given  her  just  before  the 
hurricane  had  cut  short  their  conversation  on  the 
cliffs.  She  had  told  him  her  story,  confessing  that 
the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  her  promise  was 
less  dear  to  her  now  that  she  was  in  daily  expecta- 
tion of  meeting  him  after  the  lapse  of  a  year  than 
he  had  been  when  they  had  parted ;  and  he  had  de- 
fined, in  no  doubtful  language,  the  direction  in 
which  her  duty  lay. 

For  the  rest  of  the  time  that  they  were  together 
neither  he  nor  she  had  made  any  reference  to  this 
matter;  but  he  had  not  ceased  to  think  upon  it. 
After  what  Mr.  Hartwell  had  said  he  felt  reassured. 
He  had  brought  himself  to  feel  that  he  could  only 
be  happy  if  the  girl's  happiness  were  assured ;  and 
he  believed  that  this  could  only  be  accomplished 
by  her  keeping  the  promise  which  she  had  given 
to  a  man  who  was  worthy  of  her.  However  she 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       301 

might  have  fancied  that  her  love  had  waned  or 
turned  in  another  direction  during  the  year  they 
had  been  parted,  he  was  convinced  that  it  would 
return,  as  true  and  as  fresh  as  before,  with  the 
return  of  Captain  Snowdon. 

All  that  Hart-well  had  said  bore  him  out  in  this 
view  which  he  was  disposed  to  take  of  the  way  of 
this  maid  with  the  man.  Hartwell  was  a  man  of 
judgment  and  observation,  and  if  there  had  been 
any  division  between  the  two  people  in  whom  they 
were  interested,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  no- 
ticed it.  He  had  described  the  grievance  of  which 
Snowdon  had  complained  in  a  humorous  way;  and 
Wesley  knew  that  if  the  man  felt  that  he  had  a 
grievance  of  the  most  grievous  sort  that  can  fall 
upon  a  man,  he  would  not  have  referred  to  it  in 
such  a  spirit. 

And  then  the  day  came  when  Wesley  was  able 
to  talk,  without  being  hushed  by  his  hospitable 
friend,  of  mounting  his  horse  and  resuming  his; 
journey  in  the  west.  He  had  many  engagements, 
and  was  getting  daily  more  anxious  to  fulfil  them 
before  the  summer  should  be  over. 

"  If  it  rested  with  me,  sir,"  said  Hartwell,  "  I 
would  keep  you  here  for  another  month  and  feel 
that  I  was  the  most  favoured  of  men;  but  in  this 
matter  I  dare  not  be  selfish.  I  know  what,  with 
God's  blessing,  you  seek  to  accomplish,  and  I  feel 
that  to  stay  you  from  your  journey  would  be  an 
offence." 

"  You  have  been  more  than  good  to  me,  my 
brother,"  said  Wesley.  "  And  now  in  parting  from 
you,  I  do  not  feel  as  did  the  Apostle  Paul  when 
leaving  those  friends  of  his  who  sorrowed  knowing: 
that  they  should  see  his  face  no  more.  I  know  that 
your  sorrow  is  sincere,  because  I  know  how  sincere. 


302       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

is  my  own,  but  if  God  is  good  to  us  we  shall  all 
meet  again  after  a  season." 

"  That  is  what  we  look  forward  to ;  you  have 
sown  the  good  seed  among  us  and  you  must  return 
to  see  what  your  harvest  will  be,"  said  Hartwell. 

They  agreed  that  his  horse  was  to  be  in  readiness 
the  next  morning.  This  was  at  their  noon  dinner, 
and  they  had  scarcely  risen  from  the  table  when  the 
maidservant  entered  with  the  enquiry  if  Mr.  Wes- 
ley would  allow  Captain  Snowdon  to  have  a  word 
with  him  in  private. 

"  I  was  expecting  this  visitor,"  said  Hartwell. 
4i  It  would  be  cruel  for  you  to  go  away  without 
receiving  the  man,  albeit  I  think  that  you  would 
rather  not  hear  him  at  this  time.  Let  me  reassure 
you:  he  will  not  be  extravagant  in  his  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  debt  which  he  owes  to  you;  he  is 
a  sailor,  and  scant  of  speech." 

"  Why  should  I  not  see  him?  "  said  Wesley.  "  I 
am  not  afraid  to  face  him !  even  a  demonstration  of 
his  gratitude.  Pray  let  him  be  admitted." 

Very  different  indeed  was  the  stalwart  man  who 
was  shown  into  the  room  from  the  poor  half- 
drowned  wretch  whom  Wesley  had  helped  to  carry 
from  the  shore  to  the  boat.  Captain  Snowdon 
stood  over  six  feet — a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  man 
who  suggested  a  resuscitated  Viking  of  the  milder 
order,  brown  faced  and  with  a  certain  indefinable 
•expression  of  shrewd  kindliness  which  might  oc- 
casionally take  the  form  of  humour  and  make  itself 
felt  by  a  jovial  slap  on  the  back  that  would  make 
most  men  stagger. 

He  was  shy,  and  he  had  plainly  been  walking 
fast. 

These  were  the  two  things  that  Wesley  noticed 
when  Hartwell  was  shaking  hands  with  the  man, 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       303 

and  the  latter  had  wiped  his  forehead  with  a  hand- 
kerchief as  splendid  as  the  western  cloud  of  a  sun- 
set in  the  Tropics — a  handkerchief  that  seemed  a 
floating  section  of  the  Empire  of  the  Great  Mogul 
— dazzling  in  red  and  yellow  and  green — a  wonder 
of  the  silk  loom. 

"  You  and  Mr.  Wesley  have  already  met,  Mr. 
Snowdon,"  said  Hart-well  with  a  smile,  and  forth- 
with quitted  the  room. 

Captain  Snowdon  looked  after  him  rather  wist- 
fully. He  seemed  to  be  under  the  impression  that 
Mr.  Hartwell  had  deserted  him.  Then  he  glanced 
with  something  of  surprise  in  the  direction  of 
Wesley,  and  was  apparently  surprised  to  see  his 
hand  stretched  out  in  greeting.  He  took  the  hand 
very  gingerly  and  with  nothing  of  a  seaman's 
bluffness  or  vigour. 

"  Seeing  you  at  this  time,  Captain  Snowdon, 
makes  me  have  a  pretty  conceit  of  myself,"  said 
Wesley.  "  Yes,  sir,  I  feel  inclined  to  boast  that 
I  was  one  of  the  four  who  bore  you  from  the  high 
beach  to  the  boat — I  would  boast  of  the  fact  only 
that  I  know  I  should  never  be  believed.  You  do 
not  seem  to  have  suffered  by  your  mishap." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  am  a  man  that  turns  the 
corner  very  soon  in  matters  of  that  sort,  and  then 
I  race  ahead,"  replied  the  master-mariner. 

"  You  have  become  accustomed  to  such  accidents, 
sir,"  said  Wesley. 

"  Ay,  sir,  the  salt  sea  and  me  have  ever  been 
friends,  and  more  than  once  we  have  had  a  friendly 
tussle  together,  but  we  bear  no  malice  therefor, 
neither  of  us — bless  your  heart,  none  whatever," 
said  Snowdon.  "  Why,  the  sea  is  my  partner  in 
trade — the  sea  and  the  wind,  we  work  together. 
But  you,  Mr.  Wesley,  I  grieve  to  see  you  thus,  sir, 


304       THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED 

knowing  that  'twas  on  my  account.  What  if  you'd 
been  finished  off  this  time — wouldn't  the  blame 
fall  on  me?  Shouldn't  I  be  looked  on  as  your 
murderer?  " 

"  I  cannot  see  on  what  principle  you  should,  sir," 
said  Wesley.  "  In  the  first  place  the  chill  from 
which  I  have  now,  by  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  fully 
recovered,  was  not  due  to  my  having  been  one  of 
the  four  men  who  carried  you  down  the  beach, 
though  I  should  have  no  trouble  in  getting  anyone 
to  believe  that  I  suffered  from  exhaustion.  No, 
Mr.  Snowdon,  I  had  contracted  the  complaint 
before  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  come  upon  you  in 
my  early  morning's  walk." 

"Anyway,  sir,  you  earned  my  gratitude;  though 
indeed,  I  feel  as  shy  as  a  school  miss  to  mention 
such  a  word  in  your  presence.  If  I  know  aught  of 
you,  Mr.  Wesley,  and  I  think  that  I  can  take  the 
measure  of  a  man  whether  he  be  a  man  or  a  parson, 
if  I  know  aught  of  you,  sir,  I  repeat,  you  would 
be  as  uneasy  to  hear  me  talk  of  gratitude  as  I 
should  be  to  make  an  offer  to  talk  of  the  same." 

"You  are  right  in  that  respect,  Mr.  Snowdon. 
Between  us — men  that  understand  each  other — 
there  need  be  no  protestation  of  feeling." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  sir ;  you  have  just  said 
what  I  should  like  to  say.  I  feel  that  you  know 
what  I  feel — you  know  that  if  there  was  any  way 
for  me  to  prove  my  gratitude — 

"  Ah,  you  have  said  the  word  again,  and  I  un- 
derstood that  it  was  to  be  kept  out  of  our  con- 
versation. But  I  am  glad  that  you  said  so  much, 
for  it  enables  me  to  say  that  you  have  the  means 
of  showing  your  gratitude  to  Heaven  for  your 
preservation,  and  I  know  that  you  will  not  neglect 
such  means.  You  will  be  a  good  husband  to  Nelly 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       305 

Polwhele — that  is  the  way  by  which  you  will  show 
how  you  appreciate  the  blessing  of  life ! " 

Captain  Snowdon's  face  became  serious — almost 
gloomy — as  gloomy  as  the  face  of  such  a  man  can 
become.  He  made  no  reply  for  a  few  moments. 
He  crossed  the  room  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Once  more  he  pulled  out  his  handkerchief  and 
mopped  his  brow  with  that  bit  of  the  gorgeous 
Orient. 

Then  he  turned  to  Wesley,  saying : 

"  Mr.  Wesley,  sir,  I  have  come  to  you  at  this 
time  to  talk  about  Nelly  Polwhele,  if  I  may  make 
so  bold." 

"  I  can  hear  a  great  deal  said  about  Nelly  Pol- 
whele so  long  as  it  is  all  that  is  good,"  said  Wesley. 

"  I  am  not  the  man  to  say  aught  else,"  said 
Snowdon.  "Only — well,  sir,  the  truth  is  I  don't 
quite  know  what  to  make  of  Nelly." 

"  Make  her  your  happy  wife,  Captain  Snowdon," 
said  Wesley. 

"  That's  what  I  look  forward  to,  sir ;  but  she  is 
not  of  the  same  way  of  thinking,  worse  luck !  " 

"  You  cannot  mean  that  she — she — what,  sir,  did 
not  she  give  you  her  promise  a  year  ago?  " 

"  That  she  did,  sir ;  but  that's  a  year  ago.  Oh, 
Mr.  Wesley,  I  believe  that  all  of  her  sex  are  more 
or  less  of  a  puzzle  to  a  simple  man,  and  in  matters 
of  love  all  men  are  more  or  less  simple,  but  Nelly 
is  more  of  a  puzzle  than  them  all  put  together." 

"  How  so?  I  have  ever  found  her  straightfor- 
ward and  natural — all  that  a  voung  woman  should 
be." 

"  Ay,  sir ;  but  you  have  not  been  in  love  with 
her." 

Wesley  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  or  two  with- 
out a  word.  Then  he  said : 


306       THE    LOVE    THAT    PKEVAILED 

"  Pray  proceed,  sir." 

"  The  truth  is,  Mr.  Wesley,  the  girl  no  longer 
loves  me  as  she  did,  and  all  this  time  my  love  for 
her  has  been  growing,"  said  Snowdon.  "  Why, 
sir,  she  as  good  as  confessed  it  to  me  no  later  than 
yesterday,  when  I  taxed  her  with  being  changed. 
*  I  must  have  another  year/  she  said.  1 1  cannot 
marry  you  now.  'Twould  be  cruel  to  forsake  my 
father  and  mother,'  says  she.  '  You  no  longer 
love  me,  or  you  would  not  talk  like  that,'  says  I, 
and  she  hung  her  head.  It  was  a  clear  minute  be- 
fore she  said,  '  That  is  not  the  truth,  dear.  How 
could  I  help  loving  you  when  I  have  given  you  my 
promise.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  should  not  want  me 
to  marry  you  until  I  am  sure  of  myself — another 
year,'  says  she.  Now,  Mr.  Wesley,  you  are  a  par- 
son, but  you  know  enough  of  the  affairs  of  mankind 
to  know  what  all  of  this  means — I  know  what  it 
means,  sir;  it  means  that  another  man  has  come 
between  us.  You  can  easily  understand,  Mr.  Wes- 
ley, that  a  well-favoured  young  woman,  that  has 
been  educated  above  her  station,  should  have  her 
fancies,  and  maybe  set  her  affections  on  someone 
that  has  spoken  a  word  or  two  of  flattery  in  her 
ear." 

"  I  can  scarce  believe  that  of  her,  Mr.  Snowdon. 
But  she  was  at  the  Bath  a  few  months  ago,  and 
perhaps — Mr.  Snowdon,  do  you  think  that  any 
words  of  mine — any  advice  to  her — would  have 
effect?  " 

The  sailor's  eyes  gleamed ;  he  struck  his  left  palm 
with  his  right  fist. 

"  Why,  sir,  that's  the  very  thing  that  I  came 
hither  to  beg  of  you,"  he  cried.  "  I  know  in  what 
esteem  she  holds  you,  Mr.  Wesley;  and  I  said  to 
myself  yesterday  when  I  sat  on  the  crags  trying 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PEEVAILED   307 

to  worry  out  the  day's  work  so  that  I  might  arrive 
at  the  true  position  of  the  craft  that  I'm  a-trying 
to  bring  into  haven — says  I,  *  'Tis  trying  to  caulk 
without  oakum  to  hope  to  prevail  against  a  young 
woman  that  has  a  fancy  that  she  doesn't  know  her 
own  mind.  But  in  this  case  if  there's  anyone 
living  that  she  will  listen  to  'tis  Mr.  Wesley/ 
Those  was  my  words." 

"  I  cannot  promise  that  I  shall  prevail  with  her ; 
but  I  have  confidence  that  she  will  at  least  hearken 
to  me,"  said  Wesley. 

"  No  fear  about  that,  sir,"  cried  the  other,  almost 
joyfully.  He  took  a  step  or  two  toward  the  door, 
having  picked  up  his  hat,  which  he  stood  twirling 
for  a  few  moments.  Then  he  slowly  turned  and 
faced  Wesley  once  again. 

"  Mr.  Wesley,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Mind 
this,  sir :  I  would  not  have  you  do  anything  in  this 
matter  unless  you  feel  that  'twould  be  for  the  good 
of  the  girl.  'Tis  of  the  girl  we  have  to  think  in 
the  first  place — the  girl  and  her  happiness.  We 
must  keep  that  before  us,  mustn't  we,  sir?  So  I 
ask  of  you  as  a  man  of  judgment  and  wisdom 
and  piety  to  abstain  from  saying  a  word  to  her 
in  my  favour  unless  you  are  convinced  that  I  am 
the  man  to  make  her  happy.  Look  at  me,  sir.  I 
tell  you  that  I  will  not  have  the  girl  cajoled  into 
marrying  a  man  simply  because  she  has  given  him 
lier  promise.  What!  should  she  have  a  life  of 
wretchedness  simply  because  a  year  ago  she  did  not 
know  her  own  mind?  " 

"  Captain  Snowdon,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you 
that  you  are  a  very  noble  fellow,"  said  Wesley. 
"  The  way  you  have  acted  makes  me  more  certain 
than  ever  that  Nelly  Polwhele  is  the  most  fortunate 
young  woman  in  Cornwall,  no  matter  what  she  may 


308       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

think  of  the  matter.  Since  I  have  heard  you,  sir, 
what  before  was  a  strong  intention  has  become  a 
duty.  Hasten  to  Nelly  and  send  her  hither." 

The  man  went  to  the  door  quickly,  but  when 
there  he  hesitated. 

"  To  be  sure  'twould  be  better  if  you  was  to 
speak  to  her  without  her  knowing  that  I  had  been 
with  you ;  but  we  cannot  help  that ;  we  are  not  try- 
ing to  trick  the  girl  into  keeping  her  promise," 
said  he. 

"The  knowledge  that  you  have  been  with  me 
would  make  no  difference  to  her,"  said  Wesley. 
"  She  knows  that  I  would  not  advise  her  against 
my  judgment,  to  please  even  the  man  who,  I  know, 
loves  her  truly  as  man  could  love  woman." 

Captain  Snowdon's  broad  back  filled  up  the 
doorway  in  an  instant. 


JOHN  WESLEY  sat  alone  in  the  room,  thinking  his 
thoughts.  They  were  not  unhappy,  though  tinged 
with  a  certain  mournfulness  at  times.  The  mourn- 
ful tinge  was  due  to  the  reflection  that  once  more 
he  must  reconcile  himself  to  live  alone  in  the  world. 
For  a  brief  space  he  had  had  a  hope  that  it  might 
be  given  to  him  to  share  the  homely  joys  of  his 
fellow-men.  He  now  saw  that  it  was  not  to  be; 
and  he  bowed  his  head  to  the  decree  of  the  Will 
which  he  knew  could  not  err. 

Alone?  How  could  such  a  reflection  have  come 
to  him?  How  could  he  who  sought  to  walk  through 
the  world  with  the  Divine  companionship  of  the 
One  to  whom  he  trusted  to  guide  his  steps  aright 
feel  lonely  or  alone? 

This  was  the  thought  that  upheld  him  now.  He 
could  feel  the  hand  that  he  knew  was  ever  stretched 
out  to  him.  He  touched  it  now  as  he  had  touched 
it  before,  and  he  heard  the  voice  that  said : 

"  I  have  called  ye  friends." 

•  •  •  •  * 

He  was  happy — as  happy  as  the  true  man  should 
be  who  knows  that  the  woman  whom  he  loves  is 
going  to  be  made  happy.  He  now  perceived  that 
everything  had  been  ordered  for  the  best,  this 
best  being  the  ultimate  happiness  of  the  woman 
whom  he  loved.  He  now  saw  that  although  he 
might  strive  to  bring  happiness  to  her,  he  might 
never  succeed  in  doing  so.  Even  if  she  had  loved 
him  her  quick  intelligence  could  not  fail  to  whisper 

309 


310       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

to  her  what  the  people  around  them  would  be  say- 
ing out  loud — that  John  Wesley  had  married  the 
daughter  of  a  humble  fisherman  of  Cornwall,  and 
that  that  was  no  match  for  him  to  make.  She  would 
hear  it  said  that  John  Wesley,  who  was  ever  anx- 
ious for  the  dignity  of  the  Church  to  be  maintained, 
had  shown  himself  to  be  on  the  level  with  my  lord's 
greasy,  sottish  chaplain,  who  had  showed  himself 
ready  to  marry  my  lady's  maid  when  commanded 
to  do  so  by  his  master,  when  circumstances  had 
made  such  an  act  desirable. 

Would  such  a  young  woman  as  Nelly  Polwhele 
be  happy  when  now  and  again  she  should  hear  these 
whispers  and  the  consciousness  was  forced  upon 
her  that  John  Wesley  was  believed  to  have  made  a 
fool  of  himself? 

But  even  to  assume  what  her  thoughts  would  be 
was  to  assume  that  she  had  loved  him,  and  this  she 
had  never  done.  He  was  convinced  that  she  had 
never  ceased  to  love  the  man  to  whom  she  had  given 
her  promise.  To  be  sure,  she  had  told  him  when 
they  had  been  together  on  the  cliffs  that  someone 
else  had  come  into  her  life.  But  that  he  believed  to 
be  only  a  passing  fancy  of  hers.  It  was  impossible 
that  such  a  young  woman,  having  given  her  prom- 
ise to  so  fine  a  fellow  as  Captain  Snowdon,  should 
allow  his  place  in  her  heart  to  be  taken  by  any- 
one else. 

He  wondered  if  the  Squire  had  a  son  as  well  as 
daughters.  Nelly  had  talked  to  him  often  enough 
about  the  young  ladies,  but  not  a  word  had  she 
breathed  about  a  young  gentleman.  If  there  was 
a  son,  would  it  be  beyond  the  limits  of  experience 
that  this  village  girl  should  be  captivated  by  his 
manners — was  it  beyond  the  limits  of  experience 
that  the  young  man  might  have  been  fascinated 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       311 

by  the  beautjr  of  the  girl  and  so  have  talked  to  her 
as  such  young  men  so  often  did,  in  a  strain  of  flat- 
tery that  flattered  the  poor  things  so  that  they 
were  led  to  hope  that  an  offer  of  marriage  was 
approaching? 

He  resolved  to  make  enquiry  on  this  point  from 
Nelly  herself  should  she  still  maintain  that  her 
affection  had  changed.  But  meantime 

His  lucubrations  were  interrupted  by  the  sudden 
return  of  Captain  Snowdon.  He  was  plainly  in 
a  condition  of  great  excitement.  His  coat  was 
loose  and  his  neckerchief  was  flying. 

"  We  are  too  late,  Mr.  Wesley,"  he  cried.  "  We 
are  too  late.  The  girl  has  given  both  of  us  the  slip. 
I  called  at  the  cottage  to  fetch  her  hither.  I  did 
not  find  her  at  home.  This  is  what  was  put  into 
my  hand." 

He  thrust  out  a  piece  of  paper  with  writing 
upon  it. 

"  I  cannot  stay — /  dare  not  stay  any  longer 
where  I  am  forced  to  see  you  every  day,  and  am  thus 
reminded  of  my  promise  which  I  know  I  cannot 
now  keep.  Please  try  not  to  follow  me;  'twould  be 
of  no  use.  I  must  be  apart  from  you  before  I  make 
up  my  mind.  I  am  very  unhappy,  and  I  know  that 
I  am  most  unhappy  because  I  have  to  give  pain  to 
one  who  is  the  best  of  men. 

"Nelly." 

"  You  have  read  it?  "  cried  Snowdon.  "  I  had  no 
notion  that  her  whimsies  would  carry  her  so  far. 
Oh,  she  is  but  a  girl  after  all — I  tell  you  that  she 
is  no  more  than  a  girl." 

"  She  is  a  girl,  and  I  think  that  she  is  the  best 
that  lives,  to  be  a  blessing  to  a  good  man's  life," 


312       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

said  Wesley,  returning  the  letter  to  his  trembling 
hand. 

"  The  best?  The  best?  She  has  made  a  fool  of 
the  man  who  would  have  died  to  save  her  from  the 
least  hurt,  and  you  call  her  the  best !  "  he  cried, 
walking  to  and  fro  excitedly,  crumpling  up  the  let- 
ter with  every  stride. 

"  She  is  the  best,"  said  Wesley.  "  Sir,  cannot 
you  see  that  those  lines  were  written  by  a  woman 
who  is  anxious  to  be  true  to  herself?  Cannot  you 
see  that  her  sole  fear  is  that  she  may  do  an  injustice 
to  the  man  who  loves  her?  " 

"  You  see  things,  sir,  that  none  other  can  see ;  I 
am  but  a  plain  man,  Mr.  Wesley,  and  I  can  see 
naught  in  this  letter  save  the  desire  of  a  fickle 
young  woman  to  rid  herself  of  a  lover  of  whom  she 
has  grown  weary.  Well,  she  has  succeeded — she 
has  succeeded!  She  exhorts  me  not  to  follow  her. 
She  need  not  have  been  at  the  trouble  to  do  so:  I 
have  no  intention  of  following  her,  even  if  I  knew 
whither  she  has  gone.  Have  you  any  guess  as  to 
the  direction  she  has  taken?  Not  that  I  care — I 
tell  you,  sir,  I  have  no  desire  to  follow  her.  Who 
do  you  suspect  is  her  lover?  " 

"  Mr.  Snowdon,"  said  Wesley,  "  her  lover  stands 
before  me  in  this  room.  The  poor  child  has  had  her 
doubts,  as  any  true  girl  must  have  when  she  thinks 
how  serious  a  step  is  marriage,  and  the  best  way 
that  you  can  dissipate  such  doubts  is  to  show  to 
her  that  you  have  none.  'Tis  left  for  you  to  prove 
yourself  a  true  man  in  this  matter,  Captain  Snow- 
don, and  I  know  that,  being  a  true  man,  you  will 
act  as  a  true  man  should  act." 

"  I  know  not  what  you  would  suggest,  sir,  but  I 
can  promise  you  that  if  you  hint  that  I  should  seek 
to  follow  her,  you  make  a  mistake,"  said  Snowdon. 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   313 

"  She  may  go  whithersoever  she  pleases.  I  have  no 
mind  to  be  made  a  fool  of  a  second  time  by  her.  I 
have  some  self-respect  still  remaining,  let  me  tell 
you,  Mr.  Wesley." 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  no  advice  to  sacrifice  it 
will  come  from  me,  sir,"  said  Wesley.  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Snowdon,  did  not  you  come  to  me  an  hour  ago  to 
ask  me  to  be  your  friend  in  this  matter?  Did 
you  not  ask  me  to  give  my  advice  to  the  young 
woman  of  whom  we  have  been  speaking?  Was  not 
that  because  you  believed  that  my  advice  would  be 
right?  " 

"  I  know  that  it  would  have  been  right,  Mr.  Wes- 
ley; but  now- " 

"  If  you  could  trust  to  me  to  give  her  good  advice, 
why  cannot  you  prove  that  this  was  your  hope,  by 
hearkening  to  the  advice  which  I  am  ready  to  give 
to  you?  " 

The  big  man,  who  was  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  had  made  several  passionate  attempts  to 
speak,  but  none  of  them  could  be  called  successful. 
When  Wesley  had  put  his  last  question,  he  tried  to 
frame  a  reply.  He  put  out  an  arm  with  an  uplifted 
forefinger  and  his  lips  began  to  move.  Not  a  word 
would  come.  He  looked  at  Wesley  straight  in  the 
face  for  a  long  time,  and  then  he  suddenly  turned 
away,  dropped  into  the  nearest  chair,  and  bent  his 
head  forward  until  his  chin  was  on  his  hand,  and  he 
was  gazing  at  the  floor. 

Wesley  let  him  be.  He  knew  something  of  men 
and  their  feelings,  as  well  as  their  failings. 

There  was  a  long  silence  before  the  man  arose 
and  came  to  him,  saying  in  a  low  voice : 

"  Mr.  Wesley,  I  will  trust  to  your  judgment.  I 
will  do  whatsoever  you  bid  me." 

Wesley  grasped  him  by  the  hand. 


314       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

"  I  had  no  doubt  of  you,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  I 
felt  that  any  man  whom  Nelly  Polwhele  loved " 

"  Ay,  loved — loved !  "  interjected  Snowdon. 

"  Loves — loves — in  love  there  is  no  past  tense," 
said  Wesley.  "  She  loved  you,  and  she  loves  you 
still — she  will  love  you  forever.  You  will  come 
with  me,  and  I  know  that  mine  will  be  the  great 
happiness  of  bringing  you  together.  What  greater 
happiness  could  come  to  such  as  I  than  this  which, 
by  the  grace  of  Heaven,  shall  be  mine?  " 

"  She  gave  you  her  confidence?  You  know 
whither  she  has  fled?  " 

Wesley  shook  his  head. 

"  She  told  me  nothing ;  remember  that  I  have  not 
seen  her  since  you  returned  to  her,"  he  said.  "  But 
I  think  that  I  can  say  whither  she  has  gone.  'Tis 
but  six  or  seven  miles  from  here.  Have  you  heard 
of  Ruthallion  Mill?" 

The  mariner  struck  the  palm  of  his  left  hand 
with  his  right  fist.  The  blow  had  weight  enough 
in  it  to  make  the  casements  quiver. 

"  Wherefore  could  I  not  have  thought  of  the 
Mill?"  he  cried.  "I  was  fool  enough  to  let  a 
thought  of  Squire  Trevelyan's  Court  come  into  my 
mind." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  we  shall  find  her  at  the 
Mill,"  said  Wesley.  "  The  miller  has  been  a  second 
father  to  her,  and,  besides,  he  has  a  daughter.  'Tis 
to  friends  such  as  these  that  she  would  go  for  suc- 
cour and  sympathy  in  her  hour  of  trouble." 

Captain  Snowdon  mused  for  a  moment. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  they  will  be  on  my  side, 
Mr.  Wesley?  "  he  asked.  "  They  may  reckon  that 
she  has  been  ill-used — that  she  has  a  right  to  change 
her  mind  and  to  choose  whomsoever  she  will." 

"  Mr.  Snowdon,"  said  Wesley,  "  it  doth  not  need 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       315 

that  one  should  be  possessed  of  a  judgment  beyond 
that  of  ordinary  people  to  decide  the  right  and 
the  wrong  of  this  affair  in  which  we  all  take  a 
huge  interest.  Come,  sir,  let  us  prepare  for  the 
best  and  not  for  the  worst.  What,  are  you  a  mas- 
ter-mariner and  yet  have  not  learned  that  the  best 
way  to  stamp  out  a  mutiny  is  by  a  display  of 
promptitude.  Let  us  lose  no  time  over  the  discus- 
sion of  what  the  result  of  our  action  may  be — let  us, 
act  at  once." 

He  went  to  the  door. 

"  Nay,  sir ;  but  you  are  a  sick  man — how  will  you 
make  this  journey?  "  said  Snowdon. 

"  I  am  no  longer  a  sick  man,"  said  Wesley.  "  I 
would  not  give  a  second  thought  to  the  setting  out 
upon  a  journey  to  the  Mill  on  foot.  But  there  will 
be  no  need  for  this.  Mr.  Hartwell  will  lend  us  his. 
light  cart;  it  will  hold  three." 

"  Three?     But  we  are  but  two,  sir." 

"  Ay,  Mr.  Snowdon — only  two  for  the  journey  to- 
the  Mill;  but  we  shall  need  an  extra  seat  for  our 
return." 

A  few  words  to  Mr.  Hartwell  and  his  easy  run- 
ning waggon  was  at  the  door.  The  drive  through 
the  valley  of  the  Lana  on  this  lovely  afternoon  had 
an  exhilarating  effect  upon  Captain  Snowdon,  for 
Wesley  took  care  that  their  conversation  should  be 
on  topics  far  removed  from  their  mission  at  this 
time.  He  wished  to  be  made  acquainted  with  his 
companion's  views  respecting  many  matters  of  the 
Orient.  Was  it  possible  that  the  Jesuits  had  sent 
missionaries  to  the  Indies  and  even  to  China?  Had 
Captain  Snowdon  had  any  opportunity  of  noting 
the  result  of  their  labours?  Had  Captain  Snowdon 
learned  if  the  Jesuits  discountenanced  any  of  the 


odious  native  customs  such  as  the  burning  of 
widows — the  throwing  of  infants  into  the  sacred 
river  of  Ganges?  Or  did  the  missioners  content 
themselves  with  simple  preaching? 

The  journey  to  the  Mill  was  all  too  short  to  allow 
of  Captain  Snowdon's  answering  more  than  a  few 
of  the  questions  put  to  him  by  the  discreet  Mr.  Wes- 
ley, and  it  was  not  until  they  were  turning  down 
the  little  lane  that  the  ship-master  came  to  an 
abrupt  end  of  his  replies,  and  put  the  nervous  ques- 
tion to  his  companion : 

"  Shall  we  find  her  here,  or  have  we  come  on  a 
wild-goose  chase?  " 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  in  her  presence — al- 
most in  her  presence;  they  caught  sight  of  her  fly- 
ing through  the  inner  door  when  they  entered  the 
Mill  room. 

The  miller,  in  his  shirtsleeves  and  wearing  his 
working  apron,  gave  a  loud  laugh  and  shouted 
"  Stop  thief !  "  but  his  daughter  and  her  mother 
were  looking  grave  and  tearful.  They  moved  to 
the  door  by  which  Nelly  had  made  her  escape,  but 
checked  themselves  and  returned  to  greet  Wesley 
and  Snowdon.  They  hoped  that  the  sun  had  not 
been  overwarm  during  the  drive  through  the  val- 
ley, and  that  Mr.  Wesley  had  fully  recovered  from 
his  sickness. 

The  miller  came  to  the  point  with  his  usual 
directness. 

"  You  have  come  to  carry  the  girl  home  with  you, 
I  doubt  not?  "  he  said;  and  forthwith  his  wife  and 
daughter  made  for  the  door. 

Captain  Snowdon  looked  ill  at  ease.  He  glanced 
toward  the  outer  door. 

"  How  oft  have  I  not  told  her  that  a  judgment 
would  fall  upon  her  for  the  heartburnings  that  she 


THE  LOVE  THAT  PREVAILED   317 

brought  about — all  through  her  kindness  o'  heart?  " 
continued  the  miller.  "  Poor  daughter !  But  they 
all  go  through  the  same  course,  Captain,  of  that  you 
may  be  assured,  albeit  I  doubt  not  that  you  think 
that  so  dread  a  case  as  yours  has  never  been  known 
i'  the  world  before.  When  the  marriage  day  draws 
nigh,  the  sweetest  and  the  surest  of  them  all  has  a 
misgiving.  Don't  be  too  ready  to  blame  them,  sir. 
The  wonder  is  that  when  she  sees  so  many  errors 
hurried  into  under  the  name  of  marriage,  any  maid 
can  bring  herself  to  take  upon  her  the  bondage." 

Captain  Snowdon  nodded  sideways  and  looked 
shyly  down. 

"  Nature  is  stronger  than  experience,  miller," 
said  Wesley.  "  I  am  bold  enough  to  think  that  you 
could  give  Mr.  Snowdon  a  pinch  of  your  experience 
in  your  garden,  after  you  have  told  Nelly  that  I 
seek  a'  word  with  her  here.  I  am  pretty  certain 
that  I  shall  have  completed  my  task  before  your 
experiences  as  a  married  man  are  exhausted." 

"  Right,  sir,"  said  the  miller.  "  Captain,  I  show 
you  the  door  in  no  inhospitable  spirit.  I'll  join 
you  in  the  turning  of  a  pinion." 

Captain  Snowdon  seemed  pleased  to  have  a 
chance  of  retiring,  returning  to  the  open  air;  he 
hurried  out  by  one  door,  while  the  miller  went 
through  the  other  and  shouted  for  Nelly.  His 
wife's  remonstrance  with  him  for  his  unfeeling 
boisterousness  reached  Wesley,  who  was  now  alone 
in  the  room. 

He  was  not  kept  long  wraiting.  Nelly  entered,  the 
miller  leading  her  by  the  hand,  and  then  walking 
slowly  to  the  outer  door. 

"  My  dear,  you  know  why  I  have  come  hither," 
said  Wesley,  taking  her  hand  in  both  of  his  own. 
"  You  asked  for  my  counsel  once,  and  I  gave  it  to 


318       THE    LOVE    THAT   PKEVAILED 

you.  I  could  only  give  it  to  you  at  that  time  in  a 
general  way.  I  had  not  seen  the  man  to  whom  you 
had  given  your  promise;  but  having  seen  him,  and 
knowing  what  manner  of  man  he  is — and  I  am 
something  of  a  judge  of  a  man's  character — I  feel 
that  I  would  be  lacking  in  my  duty  to  you,  dear 
child,  if  I  were  to  refrain  from  coming  to  you  to 
plead  for — for  your  own  happiness." 

"  Have  I  forfeited  all  your  esteem  by  my  be- 
haviour, sir?  "  she  cried,  still  holding  his  hand  and 
looking  at  him  with  piteous  eyes.  "  Do  you  think 
of  me  as  a  light-minded  girl,  because  I  confessed  to 
you — all  that  I  did  confess?" 

"  I  have  never  ceased  to  think  of  you  with  affec- 
tion," he  said. 

"  Ah !  the  affection  of  a  man  who  is  esteemed  by 
all  the  world,  for  a  poor  girl  who  touched  the  hem 
of  his  life,  and  then  passed  away  never  to  be  seen 
by  him  again." 

She  spoke  in  a  curious  tone  of  reproach.  He 
looked  at  her,  asking  himself  what  she  meant. 

"  Child,  child,  you  little  know  how  I  have  thought 
of  you,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Do  you  believe  that  the 
path  of  my  life  has  been  so  gilded  with  sunshine 
that  I  take  no  count  of  such  hours  as  wre  passed 
together  when  we  walked  through  the  valley,  side 
by  side — when  we  sat  together  on  the  cliffs?  " 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  joy  and  caught  up  his 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

He  was  startled.  He  turned  his  eyes  upon  her. 
She  was  rosy  red.  Her  head  was  bowed. 

In  that  instant  he  read  her  secret. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Only  occasionally  a 
little  sob  came  from  her. 

"  Child,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Child,  you 
have  been  very  dear  to  me." 


THE    LOVE    THAT    PREVAILED       319 

She  looked  up  with  streaming  eyes. 

"  Say  those  words  again — again,"  she  cried  in 
faltering  tones. 

"  They  are  true  words,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  The 
life  which  it  has  been  decreed  that  I  shall  lead  must 
be  one  of  loneliness — what  most  men  and  all  women 
call  loneliness.  Such  joys  of  life  as  love  and  mar- 
riage and  a  home  can  never  be  for  me.  I  have  given 
myself  over  body  and  soul  to  the  work  of  my  Mas- 
ter, and  I  look  on  myself  as  separate  forever  from 
all  the  tenderness  of  life.  They  are  not  for  me." 

"  Why  should  they  not  be  for  you?  You  have 
need  of  them,  Mr.  Wesley?  " 

"Why  should  they  not  be  for  me,  do  you  ask?" 
he  cried.  "  They  are  not  for  me,  because  I  have 
been  set  to  do  a  work  that  cannot  be  done  without 
a  complete  sacrifice  of  self.  Because  I  have  found 
by  the  bitterest  experience,  that  so  far  as  I  myself 
am  concerned — I  dare  not  speak  for  another — 
these  things  war  against  the  Spirit.  If  I  thought 
it  possible  that  a  woman  should  be  led  to  love  me 
I  would  never  see  her  again." 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  that — do  not  say  that ! "  she 
said  piteously. 

"  I  do  say  it,"  he  cried.  "  Never — never — never 
would  I  do  so  great  an  injustice  to  a  woman  as  to 
marry  her.  I  tell  you  that  I  would  think  of  it  as  a 
curse  and  not  a  blessing.  I  know  that  I  have  been 
appointed  to  do  a  great  work,  and  I  am  ready,  with 
God's  help,  to  trample  beneath  my  feet  everything 
of  life  that  would  turn  my  thoughts  from  that  work. 
The  words  are  sounding  in  my  ear  day  and  night — 
day  and  night,  '  If  any  man  come  to  Me  and  hate 
not  his  father  and  mother  and  wife  and  children 
and  brethren  and  sisters — yea,  and  his  own  life 
also,  he  cannot  be  my  Disciple.' " 


320       THE    LOVE    THAT   PREVAILED 

He  stood  away  from  her,  speaking  fervently.  His 
face,  pale  by  reason  of  his  illness,  had  become  paler 
still :  but  his  resolution  had  not  faltered,  his  voice 
had  not  broken. 

She  had  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him.  The  ex- 
pression upon  her  face  was  one  of  awe. 

She  shuddered  when  he  took  a  step  toward  her 
and  held  out  a  thin  white  hand  to  her.  She  touched 
it  slowly  with  her  own. 

"  Nelly,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  joy  in  self-sacrifice 
beyond  any  that  the  world  can  give.  I  look  on  you 
as  one  of  my  children — one  of  that  Household  of 
Faith  who  have  told  me  that  they  had  learned  the 
Truth  from  my  lips.  My  child,  if  you  were  called 
on  to  make  any  great  sacrifice  for  the  Truth,  would 
you  not  make  it?  Although  I  may  seem  an  austere 
man  to  you,  I  do  not  live  so  far  apart  from  those 
who  are  dear  to  me  as  to  be  incapable  of  sympa- 
thising with  them  in  all  matters  of  their  daily  life. 
I  think  you  knew  that  or  you  would  not  have  con- 
fessed to  me  that  you  fancied  your  love  had  suffered 
a  change." 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  and  passed  a  hand 
wearily  across  her  face. 

"  A  fancy — it  was  a  fancy — a  dream — oh,  the 
most  foolish  dream  that  ever  a  maiden  had,"  she 
said.  "  Has  it  ever  been  known  that  a  maiden 
fancied  she  loved  the  shadow  of  a  dream  when  all 
the  time  her  heart  was  given  to  a  true  man?  " 

"  Dear  child,  have  you  awakened?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  dreaming  time  is  past,"  she  replied. 

"  I  may  bid  Captain  Snowdon  to  enter?  "  he  said. 

"Not  yet — not  yet — I  must  be  alone;  I  will  see 
him  in  another  hour." 

He  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  and  went  with  un- 
faltering feet  into  the  sunshine. 


A     000124874     9 


